The Pureblood Squib
by AKxx
Summary: Octavia Zabini struggles to balance her pure-blood life with the prejudices surrounding her. But, with Draco Malfoy as her family's closest ally and her own worst enemy, nothing is ever easy.
1. Chapter 1

The Pureblood Squib Chapter 1

* * *

Octavia Zabini always knew she was different. Growing up in one of wealthiest and most respected pureblood families in all of the Wizarding World, she always just felt that little bit different than those around her. Especially her own family.

The Zabini's were a pureblood family of Italian ancestry; that fact was illustrated greatly in their appearances alone. Except Octavia, of course.

Her parents, Mediana and Leonardo Zabini, demonstrated the same Italian genetics as her brother, Blaise. All three sported black, straight hair and flawlessly tanned skin with masculine yet handsome features. Octavia, on the other hand, had milky white skin and tight blonde ringlets to boot. Her heart-shaped face was accentuated with her feminine plump pink lips and wide hazel doe-eyes. She certainly didn't look the part of a Zabini.

Due to her contrasting appearance to her other family members, speculation of Octavia's true origin was whispered indiscreetly within the shadows of pureblood society. But she had grown accustomed to that over the years. Now, she merely ignored the rumours. One day, she was an illegitimate child from her father's mistress (which he didn't have). The next, she was secretly adopted from Adela Yaxley at the very moment of her birth. Although, the second rumour appeared to be the most accepted of the lot.

Even Octavia wondered if it were true or not at times. Particularly when the details emerged over her eleven years. She would never voice her thoughts to her parents, however.

Leonardo and Mediana Zabini were absolutely adamant that Octavia was their biological daughter. They claimed that she inherited her appearance from Leonardo's great great grandmother who was actually a French woman.

Anytime Blaise would imply that they were not related, however, his punishments were severe. Well, severe for her family anyway. Usually it just meant that Draco Malfoy was not allowed to visit him for a week or so, while Octavia got to have her friends over every day. Sometimes, if he was really naughty, his Nimbus 2000 would be confiscated. That appeared to upset Blaise most of all. An effective punishment indeed.

Speaking of her unidentical twin brother, Octavia scowled as he shoved passed her, his shoulder colliding harshly with her own.

"Blaise!" Octavia whined, scurrying to keep up with her brother as she rubbed her shoulder. "I'm telling daddy!"

"Go away, O!" Blaise snapped, keeping his brisk pace as he and Draco made their way toward _Quality Quidditch Supplies_.

"Mummy said you're supposed to stay with me," Octavia scowled, her little legs moving quickly to keep their hurried pace.

Octavia frowned as Draco muttered something in Blaise's ear, both of them erupting into cruel laughter that was evidently at her expense. She hated them both on days like this. Whenever those two got together, they made it their priority to either pick on her, or exclude her. Both treatments stung greatly.

It never changed. It had always been that way, and always would be she assumed. Except when Blaise wasn't around, Draco was entirely different. He was kind and sweet to her. But his kindness washed away the very moment someone else was with them.

"We're supposed to go and look at wands," Octavia whined, stomping behind them dramatically. Her baby pink robes handcrafted in Milan by fairies billowed behind her, her blonde ringlets bouncing as she tried to keep up with the boys.

"Why don't _you_ go look at wands," Blaise sneered as he spun around to face her, Draco mirroring his actions. "You need one more than _we_ do."

Octavia pouted as his words sliced through her. It was no secret that Octavia's magical abilities were latent, but mummy had promised her that she would be fine once she went to Hogwarts. It was at Hogwarts that she would learn how to do magic. Mummy said that she was a 'late bloomer', and that nothing was wrong with that. But whenever her parents weren't around, Blaise and Draco didn't hesitate to mock her over her lack of magical abilities. Only when the two of them were together, of course. For when it was just Draco and her, he would comfort and soothe her.

"You have the galleons," Octavia murmured, making feeble excuses to stay with her brother. While he was cruel to her when Draco was around, he was her best friend and she wanted to go with them.

"Shame," Blaise grinned widely before turning and taking off at a sprint toward the Quidditch shop.

Draco watched Blaise run away, his brow furrowed as he turned his attention back to the watery eyed Octavia.

"Here," Draco frowned, his hand fishing in his robes to retrieve money.

Octavia smiled as Draco handed her a fistful of galleons, snatching them greedily from his pale palm.

"I want to go with you," Octavia murmured, her sparkly hazel eyes fixed on his grey orbs.

"Go to Ollivander's," Draco instructed, his tone soft as his blonde hair brushed over his brow. "We'll meet you there in thirty minutes."

Octavia pouted as she stuffed the galleons into her robe pocket, her wild curls faming her pretty dejected face.

"Fifteen minutes?" Draco offered, his silvery eyes fixed on her gloomy expression.

Nodding slightly, Octavia flickered her eyes into his gaze, blushing as he smiled in response. Her face burned, her blush increasing tenfold as Draco stepped toward her, his lips connecting with her pink cheek softly. He sometimes did that when Blaise wasn't around. Kissed her. Once, it was on the lips as they hid in the Manor gardens. A sweet kiss that she still thought of frequently.

"Wait for us," Draco instructed, stepping away from her. "Do not go anywhere except the wand store, ok?"

"Ok," Octavia nodded, her pink face glowing with embarrassment as the feel of his lips still lingered on her cheek.

Draco made no move to leave, causing Octavia to assume that he would watch her walk away to ensure that she followed his command. She did.

Sparing him one last glance, Octavia willed her blush to disappear as she turned and skipped away toward the wand store. Draco watched her go, his grey eyes fixed on her magnificent curls as they bounced and glistened in the sunlight.

* * *

"Try this one, Ms. Granger," Ollivander said as he handed a bushy-haired girl a thin and crooked wand.

Octavia quietly closed the door to the shop behind her, watching with evident fascination as the wand shot out red sparks at the girl's touch, blasting the shelves clean off of the wall behind the flinching wandmaker.

"I suppose not," Ollivander mused, gently taking the wand from the girl's small hand.

The bushy haired girl bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet as Ollivander disappeared through the shelves. Octavia's hazel eyes scanned the girl as she frowned, not entirely sure what to make of her attire. The girl wore strange blue trousers and a red lumpy sweater. She must be a muggle-born. Octavia didn't mind muggle-borns, however. She just didn't know much about them, other than that they came from muggle families.

"Hermione, dear," a muggle woman spoke, Octavia noticing that she was clad in similar attire to the girl. "Your father and I are just going to pop into the café for some coffees. Would you like a hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please." The girl named 'Hermione' answered, turning to nod at her parents. At least Octavia assumed they were her parents. The woman had blonde frizzy hair and the man had brown wavy hair. So it made sense that this frizzy haired brunette was their child.

Hermione spotted Octavia by the door, the former of the two smiling.

"Hello," Hermione spoke, an air of superiority instantly transpiring around her. "I'm Hermione Granger. And you are?"

Octavia smiled as she skipped over to the friendly, albeit somewhat self-important, girl.

"Hi," Octavia smiled, extending her sticky hand. Perhaps there was a little residue from her sweets on her sticky fingers. She didn't mind. "I'm Octavia Zabini."

"Pleasure to meet you, Octavia." Hermione smiled, shaking her hand firmly.

"Are you a muggle-born?" Octavia asked, her hazel eyes flickering over the girl's clothing once more.

"Oh," Hermione frowned fleetingly, rather taken off guard by the question. "I … yes, I come from a family of muggles."

"But you're a witch?"

"Yes, I am."

"That's nice," Octavia smiled warmly, excited to meet her first muggle-born. "Are you going to Hogwarts this year?"

A lot of people in pureblood society did not think very highly of muggles or magical folk of muggle heritage, but Octavia never really understood why, nor did she share their negative sentiments.

"Oh, yes," Hermione nodded, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement. "And yourself?"

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, her eyes flickering back to the shelves as Ollivander re-emerged.

"Ms. Zabini," Ollivander greeted warmly. "How lovely to see you. You have certainly grown, my dear child."

Octavia nodded vigorously as he stretched up on her tip-toes, emphasising her height. The last time she had seen Ollivander had been three years ago at pureblood society ball. It may have been the Malfoy's ball. Whatever, it had been years.

"Wait just a moment, won't you?" Ollivander asked, Octavia inclining her head in response.

She had to maintain her manners around him, lest he tell on her to her mother at the next pureblood gathering.

"Now, Ms. Granger," Ollivander spoke as he delicately handed Hermione a wand. "This is a vine-wood wand, with dragon heart-string. It is 10 ¾ inches. Very powerful indeed, so exercise caution."

Octavia watched excitedly as Hermione took the wand gently, the three of them waiting with anticipation. Hermione waved the wand once, a mass of petals erupting from the tip instantly, causing Octavia to squeal and clap her hands together in applause. Given that Octavia had not displayed any childhood magic, she was always rather fascinated by watching others perform it. Her excitement was, however, as always, laced with envy and resentment. No matter. She would be able to perform her own magic at Hogwarts. Mummy said so.

"Wonderful, wonderful," Ollivander declared approvingly as Octavia applauded.

"That was so pretty," Octavia sighed, eyeing the petals that lay on the floor.

"Thank you," Hermione grinned, her gaze locked onto the wand as power surged through her body.

"How does it feel?" Octavia asked interestedly.

"Right." Hermione nodded firmly. "It feels right … I feel … complete."

"My turn!" Octavia declared, flicking her curls out of her face as Mr. Ollivander nodded in response. "I want a wand!"

"Yes, yes, Ms. Zabini," Ollivander chuckled. "Wait just a moment, please."

Octavia huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, frowning as she pouted her lips. She really hated being told to wait.

"Octavia!" A shout sounded behind her, the door chime singing at the same time.

Octavia rolled her eyes as she turned around, Draco Malfoy leaning against the doorframe with a smirk plastered on his handsome face.

"What?" Octavia snapped, much too absorbed in wand-shopping to pay him much attention.

"Your mother is requesting your presence at Twilfitt and Tattings." Draco drawled, smirking as Octavia's stomped her foot.

"No! I'm shopping. Go away!" Octavia whined.

"Do not hex the messenger, O." Draco raised his hands in submission, eyeing her playfully as she groaned dramatically.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione!" Octavia sang out, not sparing a second glance at the muggle-born witch as she scurried out of the store.

"It was nice to meet you too," Hermione responded, but Octavia didn't seem to hear her.

Octavia was too busy bickering with the blonde boy as they exited the shop. Although the blonde boy quickly grabbed Octavia's hand as they departed, Hermione watching through the window as they walked hand-in-hand out of sight.

* * *

The moment she stepped through the fireplace, Octavia took off at a run heading straight toward her bedroom as her parents watched her go with sadness in their dark eyes. Whilst Octavia purchased a wand that day, among other supplies for her attendance at Hogwarts, not a single wand chose her. No magic surged through her arm at the feel of a wand in her hand. And they had tried many many wands. Alas, her magic did not come. They promised her, as they had time and time again, that her magic would come to her one day. That she would discover her magic at Hogwarts, where she would attend to be educated in one week's time. It was uncommon for magic to stay dormant for so long, they all knew that. But they told her to wait all the same. Her magic would come.

Except Leonardo and Mediana Zabini knew that Octavia's magic would never come. It hadn't been there to begin with.

* * *

"Pansy!" Octavia shouted as she tottered out of the ensuite, wiping her damp hands on her ivory robes. "Do you think I should bring Iris or Plum with me to Hogwarts?"

Pansy frowned as she pondered O's question, her eyes flickering between the pets in question. Iris, a part-Kneazle cat, was currently snoring under the sofa in the bedroom, while Plum, a pygmy puff, was jumping up and down on the regal bed in the far corner. Both animals Pansy found to be rather bothersome the majority of the time.

"Perhaps it is best to leave them both here," Pansy drawled, eyeing Iris with disdain.

Pansy had never really gotten over Iris's attack on her a year ago. Octavia justified the part-Kneazle's behaviour, however, claiming that Pansy looked at the cat funny.

Octavia shrugged as she skipped over to Pansy who sat neatly on the white fur rug in the centre of the room. Octavia had demanded that her parents provide her extravagant purple and silver bedroom with furnishings that did not come from animals. They assured her that they would do as such. But Octavia had a sneaking suspicion that the rug was made out of unicorn hair, for it felt far too similar to her own unicorns in the gardens of the manor.

"I saw Draco yesterday," Pansy drawled, keeping her tone light.

Octavia blushed instantly as she seated herself across from Pansy, her lilac trunk placed between them.

"Oh?" Octavia responded, willing her blush to disappear as she began shoving robes into the trunk.

"Yes," Pansy smiled deviously, removing the scrunched up robes from the trunk to fold them neatly. "Our mothers enjoyed tea in the parlour."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, pretending not to be interested as she continued tossing things in the trunk.

"Draco mentioned that you purchased your wand." Pansy continued, neatly folding Octavia's robes with great care.

Honestly, Octavia had no consideration whatsoever for her belongings.

"Yeah," Octavia grimaced, stuffing a bunch of ballet-flats into her trunk.

"It did not work for you," Pansy continued, eyeing her friend curiously as Octavia bit her lip.

"Mummy said that it will when we get to Hogwarts," Octavia answered, her hazel orbs glued to her trunk.

"Perhaps," Pansy sighed, arranging the contents of the trunk precisely. "Perhaps not."

"It will," Octavia nodded.

"What if it does not?" Pansy asked. "Mother was speaking to father about it. Mother believes that you are a wizard-born."

"I'm not!" Octavia snapped, her furious hazel orbs on her close friend.

Pansy only sighed quietly in response, her pitying eyes on the friend that she had grown up with. For Octavia to be a wizard-born (usually referred to as a squib, although the term was rather offensive) would be rather dreadful indeed. For it meant that Octavia would be sent away, according to her mother. And Pansy did not wish for Octavia to be sent away. She wished to attend Hogwarts with her, as they had always talked about when they were younger. An exciting place. A place that Pansy wished to attend with Octavia. Her best friend, wizard-born or not.

"Never mind," Pansy waved her hand dismissively. "It does not matter."

Octavia scowled, finding that it _did_ matter. Very much, actually. But she remained silent nevertheless, opting to focus her attention on closing her trunk. A difficult task indeed, considering how many books and clothes she had stuffed into it.

"Here," Pansy smiled, slipping out her wand. "Let me."

"You're not supposed to use your wand," Octavia scolded, her jealousy evident in her hazel eyes.

"I won't tell if you won't," Pansy smirked wickedly, flicking her wand at the trunk.

Octavia crossed her arms over her chest as the lilac trunk snapped shut, the straps instantly fastening at the sides.

"You're gonna get in trouble for that," Octavia huffed.

"Father will take care of it," Pansy laughed lightly, entirely uncaring about performing underage magic.

That was not the first spell she had performed with her wand outside of Hogwarts. Nor would it be the last.

Ah, the life of a pureblood was sweet indeed.

* * *

"Sit up straight, dear." Mediana Zabini ordered as Octavia slumped in her chair.

Emitting a groan, Octavia scowled as she straightened her posture, her chin raised elegantly – although somewhat snooty – as she sat at the grand dining table. Blaise, seated opposite her, smirked mockingly.

"Yes, O." Blaise drawled, regaining his impassive composure. "Wherever are your manners?"

"Up your ass," Octavia muttered, her parents gasping audibly in response.

"Octavia Zabini!" Leonardo snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. "That is no way for a lady to speak! Apologise this moment!"

Octavia scowled as she met Blaise's mischievous gaze, resisting the urge to haul her mashed potatoes at her prat of a brother. It was _him_ that taught her the expression that day.

"I apologise, Blaise." Octavia spoke robotically, no remorse whatsoever in her tone. "Please forgive my inappropriate language."

"Forgiven, dear sister." Blaise grinned widely, taking great delight in her anger. "Perhaps you should think before you speak, however."

Octavia's face burned red as her grip on her fork tightened, her anger radiating from her pores. The twins gazed at one another ferociously, although Blaise masked his deviousness with feigned disinterest.

"Are you quite alright, O?" Blaise asked sweetly.

"Yeah," Octavia snapped. "I'm fine, _stronzo_."

"Octavia!" Mediana gasped, her hand placed on her heart.

"What?" Octavia frowned, meeting her mother's shocked gaze as Blaise erupted into laughter.

"You will not use that word again!" Leonardo bellowed, Octavia flinching in response as tears welled up in her eyes.

Blaise had assured her that her parents did not know the meaning of that word. He said that ' _stronzo_ ' was a secret word that he and Draco used occasionally. A word that they had created. Little did she know, the word was Italian for 'asshole' or some variation of it.

Leonardo and Mediana shared a concerned glance with one another whilst Octavia cried silently, pushing her food around her plate absentmindedly. They did not wish to berate their daughter that they loved so dearly, however it appeared that she was beginning to act out. Perhaps seeking attention? Her feelings of inadequacy were evident in her attitude and misbehaviours. They feared that it would only worsen over time.

"Ahem," Mediana cleared her throat, turning her strained eyes to her son. "Have you packed for Hogwarts, dear?"

"Yes, mother." Blaise nodded firmly.

"And you, Octavia?" Mediana asked lightly, utterly despising the sight of her daughter in silent tears. Although her outright sobbing fits were indisputably the worst of them all.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, pushing her blocks of steamed pumpkin away in disgust. She simply despised pumpkin.

"Wonderful," Mediana smiled weakly. "Have you selected your subjects yet, dear?"

"Uh huh," Octavia nodded, forgetting her sadness instantly as excitement took over. "I picked charms, potions and transfiguration. And then I picked defence against the dark arts and astronomy. And flying."

"Those are the core subjects," Blaise drawled, reclining in his chair as he sipped his goblet of pumpkin juice. She almost gagged at the thought of the putrid liquid. "Those subjects are chosen for you."

Octavia scowled at him, knowing full well what he was up to.

"What subjects did you choose, Octavia?" Leonardo asked, sipping his fire whiskey leisurely.

"I uh … picked … um …" Octavia mumbled, averting her gaze. "Ancient Ruins."

"Very good," her father nodded approvingly.

"One more," Blaise smirked. "We have to select _two_ extra subjects. That is only one."

Octavia huffed as her parents gazed curiously at her, Blaise grinning widely.

"What was the other one, dear?" Her mother asked softly, unable to keep the trepidation from seeping into her tone.

"Muggle studies," Octavia murmured, her body tensing as silence washed over the family.

"I see," her father spoke coldly after a few moments of dreadfully awkward silence. "I do not recall purchasing the textbooks for that subject."

"That's because Octavia asked Draco to buy them for her whilst you were distracted, father." Blaise drawled, his dark eyes glistening with amusement. "I saw him purchase the books for her, but of course, he denied it. Yet, when I visited Octavia's bedroom today, I found myself rather surprised to see those very same books packed away in her trunk."

"BLAISE!" Octavia yelled, tossing her bread roll at him. "SHUT UP!"

"OCTAVIA ZABINI!" Leonardo roared, standing from his chair. "YOU WILL RETIRE TO YOUR BEDROOM THIS INSTANT AND CEASE YOUR CHILDISH BEHAVIOUR!"

Octavia's face scrunched up as she began to sob, pushing herself from the table before she turned and ran out of the dining hall. Her family left to dine in silence, not one of them speaking a word.

* * *

Octavia sat on the plush window seat that was generously decorated with lush blankets and feathery cushions. Her bare feet were tucked under her bottom as she gazed out into the gardens, her teary hazel orbs watching as her many unicorns pranced around brilliantly.

"O?" Blaise's voice sounded out as the door to the bedroom opened quietly.

Octavia ignored him, keeping her gaze fixed on her pets in the gardens.

"O, listen." Blaise sighed, closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry."

Again, she ignored him.

He stepped toward her, his footsteps muffled by the lush white carpeting of her grand bedroom. She pursed her lips together as he approached, Blaise climbing up onto the window seat to join her.

"Why did you tell on me?" Octavia asked, her brows furrowing as she continued to gaze out of the window.

"It's not fair." Blaise whispered, his tone quiet and remorseful. "You get away with everything."

"I don't." Octavia frowned, meeting his eyes. "I got in trouble."

"You were sent to your room," Blaise scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "If _I_ chose Muggle Studies, father would have me change my selection instantly. But not you."

Octavia titled her head as she observed him, seeing the jealousy swarm in his dark eyes. She knew her brother well enough to know what he was feeling. And it wasn't just about their parents' treatment of her.

"Draco is nice to you, too." Blaise continued, clenching his jaw slightly. "I saw him with you."

"Huh?" Octavia frowned, her face scrunching up in confusion.

"Three weeks ago, in the gardens." Blaise continued. "At Malfoy Manor. He kissed you."

"Oh," Octavia blushed, recalling the memory with clarity.

It was the first time he had kissed her on the lips, his nerves wracking his body before he ran away the moment their kiss ended.

"Did you want him to kiss you?" Octavia teased, but her genuine curiosity shone brightly in her eyes.

"No," Blaise laughed.

"Then … I don't … understand."

"He's my friend, O." Blaise sighed, gazing out of the window. "He's my friend. But he prefers you. He likes you."

"I don't get it," Octavia frowned.

"Mother and father prefer you." Blaise continued as though she hadn't spoken. "Pansy and Astoria prefer you."

"They're girls," Octavia shrugged. "They're my friends. And mum and dad don't like me better, so don't say that."

"My friends like you more than they like me." Blaise continued, ignoring her words.

"Like who?" Octavia asked cheekily, her brow raised.

"Draco, Theo and Adrian." Blaise clipped, listing his three closest friends.

"So you're being mean because they like me?" Octavia asked with evident confusion.

"It's just …" Blaise sighed. "When we go to Hogwarts … what if they only want to be friends with you?"

"You're so silly," Octavia giggled, shifting to stretch her legs out over Blaise. "They're your friends. They like you."

Blaise nodded, his gaze flickering back to his sister.

"I'm sorry." Blaise smiled weakly.

Octavia smiled in response, accepting his apology instantly. Like she always did.

"Are you scared?" Octavia asked, wiggling her toes slightly. "About going to Hogwarts?"

"No." Blaise shook his head, his tone confident. But Octavia saw right through him.

"I am," Octavia admitted. "What if I'm put in Gryffindor? Or Hufflepuff?"

"Then mother and father will disinherit you," Blaise smirked wickedly.

"Shut up," Octavia frowned.

"It doesn't matter what house you are sorted into," Blaise laughed. "Father says that the Sorting Hat is never wrong, and you're definitely a Slytherin."

"You promise?" Octavia asked, wishing to follow in her family's footsteps. They were all Slytherins.

"Cross my heart," Blaise said as he spit into his hand and extended it to Octavia.

"Or eat Hippogriff dung," Octavia spoke, spitting into her own hand.

Octavia and Blaise clasped their hands together, shaking firmly as their spit merged together. Octavia had read about the little ritual in the muggle book that she had found in the gutter of Diagon Alley four years ago. She had since taught Blaise the handshake, both of them employing it when they made an oath to one another.

The 'Twin Oath' as they called it.

* * *

Draco stalked through the halls of Malfoy Manor, headed toward his father's study to request a visit to the Zabini's home. He would claim that he wished to enjoy a game of Quidditch – despite the rainstorm – with Blaise, as he always did. But in actual fact, he was hoping to catch a glimpse or two of Blaise's sister; Octavia Zabini.

Following their outing to Diagon Alley a few days ago, Draco had been consumed with thoughts of the girl. But that was normal for him.

Octavia had been rather downcast to discover that no wand reacted to her touch, and vice versa. Of course, in true Draco fashion, he had mocked and teased her in the wand-store. But his heart ached for the girl, truly wishing to comfort her as tears streamed down her face. Perhaps her magic would come to her at Hogwarts, he hoped. He was not sure how much longer he could endure her self-pity at being unable to perform magic. Each time her hazel eyes filled with agony, his heart clenched wretchedly.

His hopes remained high, however. He had to believe that her magic would come to her. The alternative was … unthinkable.

The chances of Octavia Zabini being a squib (or the more politically correct term; wizard-born) was appearing more and more likely with each passing year. No signs of magic had yet to transpire with the girl. But Draco would not think of that possible outcome. For if she was a squib, it was likely that the Zabinis would disown and banish her, and pureblood society would reject her. It was the way things were done. Squibs were a wretched anomaly, things to be swept under the rug and never spoken of again. A horrid scandal that was not to be wished upon any person, friend or foe.

A squib had been born into his family two generations ago. His mother's side, according to the Black family records. Marius Black; the third child of Cygnus Black II and Violetta Bulstrode. While squibs retain their pureblood status in a sense – for the blood that courses through their veins is pure regardless of their lack of magical abilities – they are viewed as vermin. An unwanted plague and abomination.

Draco made to push open the ajar door to his father's study, but stopped dead in his tracks the moment his own thoughts were voiced. But by his mother and father, no less.

"Mediana is simply beside herself," his mother's sweet voice sang out gracefully.

"Why do they not banish the girl?" Lucius drawled.

"I believe they are holding on to hope, Lucius. They hope that by sending Octavia to Hogwarts that her magic will emerge."

"Then they are fools." Lucius drawled, the distaste evident in his cold tone.

"Indeed," Narcissa's graceful sigh sang out. "The Longbottom boy showed no signs of magic until recently, also. I believe that they are hoping for the same outcome; dormant magic that will emerge in time."

"The girl is a squib," Lucius drawled. "They are foolish to hope otherwise. To prolong this endeavour will only be detrimental to their reputation."

"Draco is rather fond of the girl," Narcissa spoke lightly.

"I am aware of that fact, Narcissa." Lucius drawled.

"What shall we do?"

"We do nothing. Draco will come to realise what she is in time. It is then that he will cease his attempts to begin negotiations with the Zabinis."

Draco frowned, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he listened. Yes, he had pestered his parents relentlessly to have his marriage contracts discussed with Leonardo Zabini in regards to Octavia. Yet, if what his parents were saying was the truth, marriage arrangements with Octavia Zabini was simply out of the question. She would be exiled and he would never see her again. His heart ached wretchedly at the thought. But what could be done? She was a squib, according to his parents. Nothing could be done.

It appeared that Draco would be uniting with Astoria Greengrass after all. While the girl was attractive and intelligent, she was not Octavia. In saying that, however, at least she was a witch. Octavia, on the other hand, was not.

He now understood his parents' reluctance to begin negotiations with the Zabinis. They have evidently suspected Octavia's magical status for some time now. For Draco had been insistent on the matter for three years.

"It is rather cruel to send the girl to Hogwarts," Narcissa continued. "It would be much kinder to refer her to a muggle school."

Draco blanched at the thought, disgust washing over him at the thought of Octavia in the muggle world. Would she wear their peculiar clothes? Would she befriend muggles? Surely not.

But … she _did_ persuade him to purchase books for her 'Muggle Studies' class. A task he would not have performed for anyone but her. Perhaps she was … preparing?

Draco shuddered, the thought that he may have assisted Octavia in her preparations for the muggle world utterly repulsed him.

"If it were Draco," Lucius drawled, "perhaps you would feel differently."

Draco's breath hitched as his parent's fell into silence. What would they do if he were a squib? Would they disown him and send him to the muggle world? Would they pretend he never existed, like so many other pureblood families have done in the past when a squib entered their bloodline? Surely not. His mother adored him.

He almost scoffed aloud. To even consider it was downright ludicrous. He could never be a squib. His magic was great and had incredible potential. At age eleven, he had already harnessed his power, able to channel it without the aid of a wand. His father's lessons had ensured that. Draco was certainly the epitome of a pureblood wizard. Strong, powerful and _pure_.

Unlike Octavia Zabini. She was weak with no magical abilities. And her pure blood mattered naught, for she was a squib. A filthy little squib.


	2. Chapter 2

Octavia's lilac silk robes swayed at her feet, brushing over her silver Mary-Janes as the one-centimetre heels clacked against the stone ground. Her clammy hand was clasped in her mother's firm grip, her father levitating her purple trunk ahead of them as the Zabini family weaved their way through the crowd on Platform 9 ¾. Well, they hardly _weaved_ their way through. The crowd of people actually parted for the family, as they normally did.

Octavia assumed this respectful behaviour that she was accustomed to was due to her father's high-ranking status in the Wizarding World. Therefore, her _family's_ status in the Wizarding World. Her father, Leonardo Zabini, carried an air of superiority and authority with him, but his position with the Ministry of Magic only added to that. Whilst he was not exactly an _employee_ of their government, he was a generous benefactor and resided on the Board of Trustees for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Octavia didn't know exactly what that meant. But she did know that he was an unofficial boss of sorts to many people that worked at the Ministry, as well as an authoritative figure in the Wizarding World.

Moving her free hand up to her lilac cloche hat, Octavia shifted the ornament around on her head, grimacing as the pins pulled at her curls.

"Octavia," her mother scolded, not even glancing down at her daughter. "Leave it be."

Scowling, Octavia dropped her hand from her cloche instantly, her hazel orbs narrowing as she resisted the urge to yank the hat from her head. Her house-elf, Pinky, always pinned the hat too tightly onto her curls, strands of hair threatening to tear out of her scalp.

The Zabinis came to stop by the Hogwarts Express as they encountered the stoic Malfoy family on the platform. Octavia flashed a sweet smile at Draco as their eyes met, but he did not return the smile. Instead, he surprised Octavia by glowering at her in evident distaste.

Blinking stupidly at Draco's expression of loathing, Octavia did not even get the chance to question him before he turned his attention to her twin. She watched as they greeted one another in a friendly manner, her parents following suit with Lord and Lady Malfoy.

"Octavia," Narcissa Malfoy greeted with a gentle smile. "Such lovely robes, dear."

"Thank you, Lady Malfoy," Octavia smiled politely, giving a little curtsey in response.

Lady Malfoy bowed her head approvingly, although Octavia could have sworn her blue eyes glistened with pity briefly. She must have imagined it though, for Narcissa's attention was swiftly transferred to her mother as the woman exchanged the latest gossip in hushed whispers. Apparently Mrs Nott was caught shopping in 'Oxford Street', wherever that was. Octavia didn't know. But from the malice in her mother's voice, it seemed to be a very bad place indeed.

Zoning out, as she always did when the adults spoke, Octavia fixed her anxious hazel eyes on the immobile train beside her. The nerves that shot through her body were merciless as she thought of where the train would take her in mere moments. To a new world where she would spend the next seven years of her life. Away from her parents. The thought both terrified and excited her.

Her thoughts remained on the magical school where she would soon attend as her mother and father set to hugging her in a farewell gesture. Robotically, Octavia nodded and agreed as they listed their expectations of her behaviour, before promising to see her over the Christmas break. She tried to pay attention to what they were saying, but Draco's cold stare consumed her entirely. He stood, hands in his pockets, glaring at her as his upper lip curled. A look of pure contempt. A look that she had never received from Draco. A look that shot pangs of hurt through her aching heart.

* * *

A scowl graced Octavia's pretty face as she hauled her heavy trunk behind her, following Draco and Blaise through the corridor of the Hogwarts Express. Neither boy offered to help her with her heavy luggage, both of them whispering quietly as they levitated their own trunks behind them, preventing Octavia from maintaining a closer proximity.

A light sigh of relief escaped her pink lips as the boys stopped at a compartment door, Blaise declaring that the others were inside. The others being Pansy, Astoria, Theo and Adrian, of course. Wrenching open the door, Blaise disappeared into the compartment quickly, the two levitating trunks following him. But before Octavia could move to approach the compartment now that the luggage was no longer blocking her path, Draco stepped toward her, his fierce grey eyes stopping her instantly.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, his icy tone causing Octavia to frown.

"I … I'm going … in there," Octavia frowned, not understanding why his upper lip curled the moment she spoke.

"That compartment is for magical people only." Draco drawled, his cold grey eyes boring into her hazel orbs.

"I … I'm magical …" Octavia muttered, her hazel eyes shining with confusion and hurt.

"Prove it." Draco sneered. "Do a spell."

Octavia swallowed audibly as she fished into her robe pocket, removing her white, elegant wand and aiming it at the wall.

" _Lumos_ ," Octavia spoke clearly, the wand not reacting to her in the slightest.

"See," Draco smirked cruelly. "You are not magical. You cannot come in."

Octavia scowled as she stuffed her wand back into her robes' pocket.

"Mummy said that I can do magic when I'm at Hogwarts." Octavia murmured, shuffling her feet anxiously.

Draco narrowed his eyes, taking a determined step toward her. She didn't back away. She was merely confused as to the reason for his sudden cruelty toward her. She was completely baffled.

"You," Draco hissed, enunciating his word with venom, "should find a compartment with others like you. People who do not belong in our world. Perhaps you can find a compartment with mudbloods?"

"That's not fair," Octavia whined, stomping her foot childishly. "It's not up to you where I sit!"

"Isn't it?" Draco sneered, stepping closer to her as she held her ground. "Go on then. If it's not my decision, then why are you still standing here?"

Octavia raised her chin in the air before she stepped forward to make her way around Draco's body, before she was shoved backwards. Octavia squealed as she stumbled backwards over her trunk, instantly losing her balance before landing on her bottom with a grunt.

Sitting on her bottom, sprawled out at Draco's shiny shoes, Octavia's face scrunched up as tears burned in her hazel eyes.

"Ow," Octavia whimpered, flickering her anguished eyes up to a stoic Draco Malfoy. "That hurt."

"You cannot come in." Draco drawled, seemingly unphased by the tears that streamed down her face.

Octavia cried silently as he turned and stalked off, disappearing into the compartment before he slammed the door shut behind him. Octavia still sprawled out on the ground as tears escaped her pained eyes. He had never shoved her before. He had never been that cruel to her before. He had never _hurt_ her before.

Getting to her feet, Octavia used the sleeves of her robes to wipe away the salty tears from her blotchy face. She grabbed the handle of her trunk before stomping down the corridor, lugging her baggage along as she went. It took all of fifteen minutes before she had reached the end of the massive train, only to discover that all compartments were occupied.

Fighting off her tears of self-pity, Octavia made her way back to the middle of the train where she had spotted a compartment with only two occupants during her search. Her weak arms grew tired quickly as she hauled the trunk along, her short heels scraping along the carpet as she dragged her feet tiredly. A difficult task, given that the train had begun to travel to their destination, making it difficult for Octavia to maintain her balance.

Inhaling deeply as she approached the compartment, Octavia attempted to regain her composure before entering, hoping that the two boys inside were kind and nice to her. Unlike Draco was that day. For reasons she could not comprehend or even begin to imagine.

Octavia grunted as she hauled open the heavy compartment door, the two boys inside looking up instantly as they fell into silence.

"Uh … hello," Octavia smiled weakly, the boys returning the gesture which soothed her nerves immensely. "Do you mind?"

"No," the two boys answered instantly, the red-head blushing a bright shade of crimson.

"Thank you," Octavia smiled as she stepped through the threshold, the dark-haired boy standing as he helped her with her trunk.

"Here," he said, taking the handle from her grip. "Let me."

Octavia smiled as she moved around him, not even watching as he struggled to place her trunk in the overhead shelves. Instead, she unclasped her robes before tossing them onto the bench-seat, revealing a knee-length dress of the same shade of purple.

"I'm Ron," the red-head spoke through a mouthful of what appeared to be a sandwich. "Ron Weasley."

"A pleasure to meet you," Octavia smiled politely as she inclined her head.

It wasn't exactly a _pleasure_ , though. She had heard a little about the Weasley clan, and how poor they were. Although this 'Ron' seemed nice enough. Perhaps not possessing wealth didn't mean much when it came to a person's personality? A strange thought.

"Harry," the dark-haired boy introduced himself as he reseated himself by the window.

"Harry Potter?" Octavia gasped, her hazel eyes quickly scanning his hair-covered forehead intently.

"Yeah," he answered awkwardly, brushing his hair over his forehead despite the fact that his scar was already covered by the mop.

"Lovely," Octavia smiled, maintaining her manners. She had heard a little about Harry Potter, and some rumours about how he survived an attack. But she wasn't sure of the details. Her parents did not allow her to ask about such 'trifle', as her mother would say. "I'm Octavia."

"Octavia _Zabini_?" Ron sputtered, his friendliness disappearing suddenly.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded. "That's me."

"Right," Ron spat, nodding firmly. His instant dislike of her palpable in his disgusted expression.

The compartment fell into a thick awkward silence as Ron turned to stare out of the window, Harry thinning his lips as he glanced at Octavia. She clasped her hands in her lap as she swung her feet leisurely, her shoes barely grazing the floor. She could not recall a time that she had ever felt this uncomfortable before. Nor did she know the reason for Ron's sudden dislike of her. Or Draco's, for that matter.

All excitement at the prospect of attending Hogwarts had vanished in the twenty minutes on of Octavia being on the train. Instead, all she felt was dread and anxiety. Wishing for nothing else but to return home to her parents.

They were always nice to her.

* * *

Octavia stood, mixed in with the crowds of first-year students, her hands wringing together anxiously as her hazel eyes stared at the Headmaster on the podium. Her feet shuffled nervously on the stone ground, the entire hall silent except for the booming and authoritative voice of Professor Dumbledore. 'A quack', her father had once said. 'A fool', apparently. But Octavia could not help but disagree. He seemed to be rather wise, and a little strange. But she liked strangeness. It was interesting.

Glancing around at her fellow first-years, Octavia pursed her lips as her friends all stood together a few metres away. Pansy was already gazing at Octavia with sympathy in her brown eyes, offering her a weak smile. Octavia returned it, but her heart ached as Pansy quickly turned her attention back to the Headmaster. Evidently due to Draco snapping harsh words at the girl, the blonde pureblood then turning his fierce gaze to a nervous Octavia instead. The moment their eyes connected, Octavia felt her heart clench wretchedly, his eyes radiating disgust right at her. Something that utterly perplexed her. A mere week ago, he was stealing sweet moments with her in Diagon Alley. He kissed her cheek and held her hand. He purchased books for her and offered her his ice-cream. And now … now, it seemed that he despised her.

Regaining her attention, the Headmaster finished his speech as he introduced Professor McGonagall, a stern looking woman with thin slits for eyes.

Anxiety coursed through her veins as the Sorting Ceremony began, Octavia's hands pulling at the hem of her school skirt as she waited alone. While Octavia stood amongst the herd of first-years, she was alone. Nobody stood _with_ her. Just near her.

Even the boys, Harry and Ron, from the compartment had purposefully deserted her the moment they had departed the Hogwarts Express. Hardly surprising, however, as they had travelled the entire journey in an awfully awkward silence. Octavia attempted to strike up conversation a few times, but Ron quickly shut her down. He murmured something about 'Death Eaters', but Octavia found herself to be utterly perplexed at his words. What ate death? She had never heard of such things.

So there Octavia stood in the Great Hall, amongst the first-year students. With no friends or brother by her side. Speaking of her brother, the _Stronzo_ hadn't even looked her way since they had entered the Great Hall. He ignored her the entire time.

It seemed that Blaise was the one that got all of their friends after all.

A girl she recognised from Diagon Alley was summoned to the altar. Hermione Granger, the professor declared. Disappointment soared through Octavia horrendously as the bushy-haired girl was sorted into the house of lions. She had almost allowed herself to hope for the girl's sorting into Slytherin so that she would have one friend at least.

"Draco Malfoy," the professor called out, her tone authoritative.

The students remained silent, but the atmosphere thickened instantly as Draco sauntered confidently up to the altar, his head held high. He hadn't even seated himself on the stool fully before the Sorting Hat roared 'Slytherin' as it hovered above his head. It didn't even touch a strand of his silky, silvery hair before sorting him into the house of snakes. Octavia had to admit that she was impressed. His parents would be proud.

The entire Slytherin table erupted into a raucous applause, most occupants standing as they cheered. Octavia merely scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. Whilst she was impressed at his swift sorting into the preferred house, she was annoyed regardless. For if _she_ was sorted into Slytherin, she would have to endure his constant intense stares of disdain constantly. Something she didn't wish to endure.

Maybe she could talk to him? Perhaps she had angered him somehow? She would have to talk to him.

Student after student was called up onto the altar to be sorted into one of the four houses, each more nervous than the last. She watched as Harry and Ron were sorted into Gryffindor, a grimace gracing her pretty face at the foolish house of lions. Although Hufflepuff may just be worse than Gryffindor.

More students were beckoned to the altar, the group of first-years dwindling as time went on. Eventually, the professor was nearing the end of the list, leaving Octavia and Blaise standing alone. He _still_ didn't look at her.

"Blaise Zabini." Professor McGonagall announced, Blaise sauntering up to the altar much like Draco had.

"Slytherin!" The Sorting Hat declared after barely a moment of being placed on his dark hair.

The applause that erupted was hardly registered by Octavia who clapped lightly, her pretty face reddening at being the last on the evidently alphabetically organised list. The last one standing in the centre of the Great Hall, all eyes on her. One pair of eyes burning into the side of her face from the Slytherin table, but she didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She could _feel_ his silver eyes on her.

"Octavia Zabini," the woman said, her tone quieter now.

Dread plummeted her heart into her stomach, nausea washing over her instantly. She feared passing out or vomiting right then and there in front of the entire school. Her nerves were evident as she hesitantly stepped up toward the podium, her hazel eyes shining with dread. The Great Hall was so silent that you could hear a knut drop. Or perhaps that was just Octavia's imagination, the deafening sound of her heart pounding drowning out all other noise.

Biting her lip anxiously, Octavia turned as she reached the altar and seated herself on the small stool with uneven legs. She wobbled a little once seated, but the stool never seemed to actually tip over.

Her attention fixed solely on the old scruffy hat that was placed atop the tight curls that were tied into a bun at the nape of her neck, a few loose tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. Octavia didn't even realise that she was holding her breath until her lungs began to contract inside of her, begging for oxygen to fill them.

The hat sat atop her head humming and ah-ing loudly as it sifted through her mind. Chancing a glance at the Slytherin table, Octavia met with the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. He appeared interested, leaning over the table slightly as he watched with utter attentiveness. She could have sworn his lips twitched, as though he was about to offer her a reassuring smile like he had done so on many other occasions. A force of habit. Instead, he clenched his jaw as he narrowed his eyes scathingly. Blaise offered no reassurance either, choosing to stare at his empty plate instead. In fact, none of her 'friends' were looking at her.

"Very difficult," the Sorting Hat commented, Octavia swinging her feet anxiously as she sat on the stool.

"Not Hufflepuff, no." The Sorting Hat mused aloud. "You are much too selfish and cunning for Hufflepuff."

Octavia scowled but didn't speak. Instead, her cheeks burned red as she had surely acquired the most attention of the first-years thus far. Except for Harry Potter, of course. The-Boy-Who-Lived, as some called him. She never understood the phrasing. For they were all living, were they not?

"Ravenclaw, perhaps?" The hat continued as it swayed on her head leisurely. "Ah, yes. You are quite accepting, Miss Zabini. Yet … you do not possess the intellectual capacity for such a house."

A few snickers sounded out through the Great Hall, most from the Slytherin table as to be expected. Whilst she was acquainted with many occupants of the Slytherin table, they would not pass up the opportunity to laugh at the mockery.

"Definitely not a Gryffindor," the hat mused, Octavia growing redder by the second. "No, you lack the bravery, you see."

 _Slytherin. Please. I belong in Slytherin._

"Slytherin?" The hat chuckled, reading her thoughts easily. "You would do well in Slytherin, Miss Zabini. You are cunning, yes. But are you clever? Are you ambitious? Do you really _belong_ in Slytherin?"

 _Yes. Yes, I do. I belong there. My whole family was in Slytherin._

"Were they now? Your … _family_?" The hat chuckled, swaying on her head. "Interesting … SLYTERHIN!"

A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips as the anxiety began to dissipate somewhat, the Slytherin table breaking out into an applause as she rose from the stool. Surprise momentarily flashed over her pretty face as Blaise and Pansy clapped along with the majority of the Slytherins. Draco didn't clap. He merely stared at her, his expression unreadable. Why had he suddenly become an enigma? She must have done something to upset him. There was no other explanation for his treatment of her to her knowledge.

Her jelly-legs successfully managed to carry her toward the Slytherin table. Her hazel eyes fixed on the ground as she seated herself at the edge of the table, sitting alone.

A horrid feeling that she was not quite accustomed to. A feeling that she had experienced that entire day.

A hollow feeling that had her on the verge of tears.

* * *

Thankfully her luggage was in the dormitory already, stacked neatly at the bottom of a queen-size bed, decorated with silver and green sheets and drapes. As expected, Octavia was rooming with three other first-year Slytherin girls. Much to her dismay, however, those girls did not include her friends, Pansy and Astoria. Although, they did not seem to be her friends at that moment.

The two girls that Octavia had grown up with currently resided in the Slytherin common room with the rest of their childhood clique: Draco, Blaise, Theo and Adrian. While Adrian was one year their senior, he had grown quite close to the others throughout the years, solidifying his place within their group. A place that Octavia appeared to no longer possess.

The moment they had entered the common room in the deepest corridors of the dank dungeons, the others had completely ignored Octavia's existence yet again. So she opted to retire to her dormitory while the others played a game of Exploding Snap on the sofas of the communal area. A game that they used to play with her …

All hopes of befriending her dorm-mates were quickly shattered as she examined the names on the other three trunks in the room. Millicent Bulstrode was the first name she noticed, accompanied by a pang of overwhelming dread. To say that Millicent was not Octavia's biggest fan would be the understatement of the century. The sturdy girl simply loathed Octavia for reasons unknown. Although Octavia couldn't help but suspect it was due to her popularity – that she evidently did not possess any more – and her beauty.

The two other roommates were hardly any better. Hestia Carrow and Octavia, while running in the same circles, had never really spoken to one another, other than the occasional polite greeting. Hestia was never outwardly rude to Octavia, but she was never nice either. But was any Slytherin ever nice?

Draco was … At times. Now not being one of those times.

Tracy Davis, on the other hand, was a different story all together. The girl was a half-blood, Octavia believed. She had never seen her at any pureblood society functions, nor was her family name listed in either the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' of Britons, or the 'Sacred Thirty-Four' of Europeans. Given the commonness of her surname, it was safe to assume that the girl's blood was impure. Although Octavia never really thought of anyone's blood as being 'impure'.

The Zabinis had not – to her knowledge – advocated blood purity like others did, such as the Carrows and Malfoys. They never used the word 'mudblood' or judged someone for 'impure' blood. However, Octavia knew that eventually she would be assigned to marry another pureblood to sustain the bloodlines, but her parents never expressed any beliefs of blood inferiority. Therefore, Octavia was never under the impression that anyone was inferior to her based on their ancestry. She only knew that their bloodlines had to be sustained.

Heaving a deep sigh, Octavia knelt on the cold stone floor of the vacant dorm-room in front of her luggage. She would spend the night unpacking while the joyous celebrations took place in the common room. Celebrations that she was evidently not invited to participate in. For not one single person had even looked her way since the Prefects had escorted them to the dungeons.

So she sat alone, on the cold floor of the dormitory. An inkling flaming up within her that it would not be the last time she found herself without company.

Pleasant company at least.

Unable to fight them off any longer, her pained hazel orbs suddenly began to shed silent tears as she unpacked her trunk. Her heart heavy with the pain of being rejected by her friends.

A flicker of hope that things would be different in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

First Year

* * *

Leonardo Zabini reclined gracefully in the chair, his cold dark eyes fixed on the babbling Ministry official whose name he never cared to learn. His wife was seated elegantly beside him with poise as they faced the large, chipped desk in the Headmaster's office. The meeting had been expected by Leonardo and his wife, although they were rather surprised that it was taking place so long into the school year. Three months to be exact.

As their daughter's magical abilities had yet to emerge, a conference between the Zabini patriarch and matriarch was arranged, joined by the ministry official and two professors. Headmaster Dumbledore sat in the chair at the desk, his wise blue eyes fixed on the Zabinis as a gentle smile tugged at his wrinkled lips. Severus Snape stood beside the Headmaster, his gloomy expression the same as always. However, the blasted Ministry official sat _on_ the desk like some sort of commoner as he rambled on about Octavia's options. Options that the Zabinis were not interested in hearing.

"- evident that your daughter's magical abilities will not emerge, causing the Ministry to require her registration as a Wizard-born Muggle." The man advised, his tone expressing his already palpable nerves. "This can be done by attending the Ministry of Magic, level –"

"I am aware of the requirements," Leonardo drawled, his distaste for the man evident in his tedious tone.

"Right," the man nodded a tad too vigorously, his cheeks flushing a repulsive shade of crimson. "It is typical for Wizard-borns to be sent to muggle schools in order to undergo the appropriate education for their integration into the muggle world –"

"It is quite arrogant of you to presume that we will be exiling our daughter to the muggle world, is it not?" Mediana asked, tilting her head slightly as the man's blush increased.

"Oh, um … I …" the man stuttered, his forehead glistening with sweat. "It's just … most parents choose to send their magically-challenged offspring into the muggle world where they will … fit in …"

"Do you mean to imply that our daughter has no place in the world she was born into? Do you mean to suggest that Octavia Zabini, heiress to the Zabini Empire, has no place in the Wizarding World?" Leonardo drawled, his dark eyes boring into the nervous man's anxious orbs.

"Not at all, Lord Zabini," the man quickly sputtered, his nerves radiating from his clammy face. "It is unusual for a Wizard-born to remain in the wizarding world, but it … is your decision ultimately … and the Ministry will be more than … accommodating to your … daughter and accept her."

"Quite right," Mediana nodded gracefully, her dark eyes pooling with distaste.

"As it's … uh … three months into the schooling year … we … uh, think it best that Miss Zabini continues her first year of studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so as … not to disrupt her learning."

"Ahem," Leonardo cleared his throat, the gesture gaining the attention of the ministry official. "I find myself perplexed as to the reason for this late conference. My daughter appears to have shown no signs of magical abilities since the beginning of the school year, yet it has taken the Ministry of Magic _three months_ to identify and address the issue at hand."

"If I may," Professor Dumbledore spoke. "In Miss Granger's first flying lesson, it appeared that her magical abilities emerged. The broomstick reacted to her command following several attempts, causing us to consider that she was in fact _not_ a Wizard-born Muggle."

"As it turns out, however, the broomstick – after examination – showed the magical signature of another." Snape explained, appearing thoroughly bored.

"It appears that Mr. Draco Malfoy employed wandless and nonverbal magic to cause the broomstick to rise into Miss Zabini's hand." Dumbledore continued, a whisper of a smile on his lips. "A similar instance occurred in Charms, when Mr. Malfoy – again – used wandless, nonverbal magic to levitate her feather during class after she succumbed to tears."

"I see," Mediana nodded, smiling slightly.

"The matter still remains," the Ministry official continued, his brow dripping with droplets of sweat. "What course of action would you like to take with your daughter, given the circumstances?"

"The circumstances?" Leonardo repeated, his brow quirked. "Our daughter, whilst being a Wizard-born, belongs in this world. She is a pureblooded Zabini heiress and will remain where she belongs. Octavia will continue her studies at Hogwarts until graduation."

"Unless that is an issue?" Mediana asked dangerously, her dark eyes fixed on the frowning ministry man.

"No, no." the man shook his head, his expression suggesting otherwise. "Of course not, Mrs. Zabini."

" _Lady_." Leonardo snapped, his tone laced with authority and danger. "You will address my wife appropriately."

"Of course," the man paled visibly. "Excuse my impertinence, My Lady … and My Lord."

As the Zabinis did not respond, Albus took the moment of heavy silence to speak.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be simply delighted to have Miss Zabini continue her studies with us." Professor Dumbledore spoke gently. "We have catered to and taught several Wizard-borns in the past; one of whom is currently employed at the school as caretaker, and has been for decades: Mr. Argus Filch. Miss Zabini's curriculum will, of course, need to be revised to suit her inabilities. I trust that her head of house, Professor Snape, will perform the appropriate actions for the adjustments in her classes."

Snape bowed his head once in agreeance, the Zabinis mirroring the gesture.

"Her core subjects will have to be replaced with electives to facilitate her disabilities." The ministry official spoke, his shaky voice raking at Leonardo's eardrums atrociously.

"I beg your pardon?" Mediana snapped, her eyes alight with outrage. "Our daughter has no _disabilities_. Octavia is a gifted and brilliant child. How dare you suggest otherwise! What is the name of your superior, sir?"

"Now, now, dear." Leonardo drawled, his tone icy as he placed his hand on his wife's knee. "Let us focus on our daughter for the moment."

"I …uh," the ministry official muttered, his body almost trembling now. "I have a pamphlet for you … it may assist you in … understanding your daughter's … uh … challenges … um …"

Leonardo extended his tanned hand, the nervous man placing a folded piece of parchment in it hesitantly. The parchment was titled _'Wizard-borns in the Wizarding World'_ , Leonardo eyeing the title with palpable tedium.

"It … explains … avenues that the person in question may wish to … pursue … um … careers, and such."

"Careers?" Mediana gasped, placing her hand over her heart. "Leonardo, did you hear that? Octavia with a _career_?"

"It is inappropriate for a Lady of Octavia's standing to pursue such things as a _career_." Leonardo drawled, his composure cracking as his dark eyes radiated indignation. His grip tightened on his wife's knee as his anger increased, both Zabinis utterly appalled at the suggestion.

"What Mr. Prounle means to say, I believe," Dumbledore interrupted elegantly, a gentle smile gracing his lips, "is that Miss Zabini is able to function in the Wizarding World in many different ways. Despite the magical challenges that she faces, Miss Zabini can successfully operate within the Wizarding World, whether it is the avenue of a career, or that of a domestic lifestyle."

"Then it is decided," Leonardo drawled, rising from the seat, his wife following suit. "Octavia may choose the appropriate subjects to pursue and continue her studies here at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore nodded once, indicating his approval as Mr. Prounle thinned his lips. It was rather unusual for a pureblood family that were once Death Eaters to embrace and accept a squib within their bloodline. But the Zabini's were not a family to be argued with. And the Ministry was in no position to do so when it came to the delicate topic of Wizard-borns. So it was decided.

Octavia Zabini would remain at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Despite her lack of magical abilities.

* * *

 _Dear Diary,_

 _Today I had to change my classes with Professor Snape because I'm not doing well in some of them. Daddy and mummy visited me for a while to talk to me about it. They said that my magic wouldn't come because I'm a Wizard-born. Sometimes people call them 'squibs', but that's a nasty word. I hope no one calls me that word._

 _I don't want to be a Wizard-born. I didn't want to give over my wand because I want to keep practicing. Daddy said that I can keep it but it won't work for me. I'll keep trying though. My magic might come one day. Mummy promised that it would when I was younger. She always said it would come to me. Mummy doesn't lie._

 _But now she said that it won't come ever. I won't stop trying though. I want to be a witch. I'm a pureblood witch. I have to be. I can't be a Wizard-born. I'll show them. I'll do magic and everyone will know that I'm a witch._

 _I was in my first flying class a couple of months ago and I did magic then. But Professor Snape said that someone else spelled the broom to fly into my hand. I don't believe him. No one likes me in that class, so it doesn't make any sense. I told the broom to come 'up' and it did. Because I'm magic. But nobody believes me. I'll do it again._

 _And! In charms class, the feather levitated for me. So … I'm magic. But Professor Slimy Pants said that the same person spelled the feather that spelled my broom. Silly. I have no friends here, so who would want to help me and make me feel better? No one._

 _I'm magic. But no one believes me._

 _I'm not too sad about changing my classes though. I got good classes._

 _They made me drop out of Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Flying. I wanted to drop Potions though, because it's really hard and Draco is in that class with me. He's in most of my classes, but he's near me in that one. He's at the table behind me and says means things. But Professor Snape said I can't drop it. I have to do as many core subjects as I can. Whatever. He's just annoyed because he has a hooked nose and greasy hair._

 _Anyway, I have to go now. I have to do a lot of homework to catch up in my new classes. I don't have to do all the homework, Snape said. Because I'm so far behind. But I've to do as much as I can to build up my grades. I'm glad I get a second chance at my grades because I'm failing almost everything._

 _But now I'll pass everything. Because these new subjects are fun. But I'll still practice my magic. Because I have it. I swear._

 _I'll show everyone. I'll be magic and powerful and strong._

 _Octavia Zabini (_ _ **not**_ _a Wizard-born). Xo_

* * *

Second Year

* * *

Octavia's face was scrunched up as tears streamed down her cheeks, her potions book clutched firmly against her chest with the aid of both arms. She burst through the doors to the girl's bathroom on the second floor, seeking the privacy that the abandoned restroom offered.

Again, Draco had tormenting her in class, and again, Octavia sulked and sobbed like the child she was. Although it would be a difficult task indeed to have Octavia admit to her being just that; a child. At age twelve, Octavia wrongly insisted that she was a grown-up, despite her youth.

Her self-proclaimed maturity, however, did not assist her in the torturous days that she suffered at Hogwarts in her second year. It had no effect whatsoever. For Draco Malfoy tormented her regardless.

Today, he 'accidently' knocked over her cauldron in potions class as he made his way to the supply cupboard, the entire contents spilling out onto the mouldy floors instantly. An automatic fail, she received from Professor Snape. He did not even allow her an extension on the potion, given that the potion was incorrectly brewed anyway.

A sob escaped her damp lips, trickles of snot trailing out of her scrunched up nose as she scurried through the bathroom, headed toward one of the vacant stalls. That is, however, until she heard a snivel sounding out from the stall to her right.

Octavia placed her book on the floor before walking over to the occupied stall, using the sleeves of her cardigan to wipe at her tears.

"Hello?" Octavia sniffed as she knocked on the door.

The quiet sobbing ceased immediately, silence consuming the bathroom as Octavia shuffled her feet on the floor anxiously.

"Are you alright?" Octavia asked, not moving away from the door.

"Go away." A voice thick with tears replied.

Octavia frowned, finding that she did not want to leave.

She wanted to know who was crying and why. She wanted to share her misery with someone. Anyone. To find solace in someone else's sadness. Perhaps it was selfish of her. But it's what she wanted. What she _needed_. To not be alone in her pain.

"No," Octavia stated firmly, seating herself crosslegged by the stall.

The girl's voice didn't respond, but another snivel sounded out from the toilet cubicle.

"Why are you crying?" Octavia asked, her own tears vanishing as she forgot her own gloom momentarily.

The voice didn't respond, but some shuffling noises came from the stall.

"I'm Octavia," she introduced, finding that she had nothing else to say. But she wanted to speak to the girl.

"Octavia Zabini?" The girl asked quietly with a slight sniff.

"Yeah," Octavia smiled, glad that the girl was responding to her. "Do I know you?"

"We have met." The girl whispered, the door unlocking but not opening.

Octavia remained seated, waiting for the girl to open the door and reveal herself.

"Are we in class together?" Octavia asked, her mind churning as to who the mysterious student could be.

"Some."

"Oh." Octavia nodded, biting her lip as she thought. "Did we meet … in class? Which one?"

"We met before Hogwarts." The girl answered, the door opening slowly.

Octavia peeked through the ajar entrance to the cubicle, her hazel orbs glistening with anticipation as the girl was slowly revealed to her. Familiarity washed over her, accompanied with a sense of relief as the girl stood in the cubicle, looking down at Octavia with tears shining in her brown eyes.

"Hermione Granger," Octavia smiled warmly, the girl returning the smile weakly.

Octavia felt a surge of happiness at the sight of the girl, despite Hermione's evident unhappiness. For Octavia knew that the girl was without friends, much like herself. Although they were in opposing and rivalling houses, it was possible that they may form a friendship. To bond through their unpopularity and unhappiness.

Yes. Octavia Zabini was a happy girl indeed. For she had potentially found her first and only friend at Hogwarts.

* * *

Third Year

* * *

 _Dear My Diary,_

 _Today me and Hermione-Ninny, as I like to call her, 'cause her hair is all tangled and she looks like a nin-compoot (is that how it's spelled?)-built snowmen in the courtyard of Hogwarts. I've never seen a snowman before. I thought when she suggested that we spend the Saturday morning that way, the snowmen were real creatures from the muggle world that you built out of snow. I was wrong. They just … stand there. They don't blink their stone eyes or move their twig arms. It was kind of boring once we had finished building the strange thing. But then Ninny put a_ _ **carrot**_ _in its face and said that it was a nose! Can you believe that? Muggles are weird sometimes. But I had fun. Maybe I'll show Blaise how to build snowmen when we go home to the Manor for Christmas tomorrow. He might like that._

 _I hope Draco doesn't come over during Christmas. He's awful to me. But you already know that … because I told you … because you're my diary … yeah. Well, if Draco isn't at the Manor, Blaise will play with me. He'll be nice to me and we can build snowmen. I'll tell him that Ninny showed me how to do it and then he'll definitely want to help build one. He likes her, I think. He always watches her and once she told me that he helped pick up her books after Draco shoved her. I hate Draco. I hope he doesn't come over at Christmas._

 _He always pretends to be nice to me when our parents are around. But he's not. He's awful and a bully. I wonder if he'll buy me a Christmas present this year. He always gets me presents for Christmas and my birthday and stuff. But I think it's because his parents make him. Mummy and Daddy make me buy him presents too. But … I hope he gets me presents. I don't like him but he buys the best presents. Last year, for my birthday, he bought me a Pixie-Diamond Diadem that changes colour depending on what I'm wearing. It's so amazing. I'm pretty sure his mum made him buy it for me. But I don't care. It's perfect._

 _I asked Ninny to come over at Christmas, but she's going to Ron Weasley's instead. I wasn't invited because Ron doesn't like me either. I think he doesn't like my family. One time, when I was in Care of Magical Creatures with Ninny, he yelled at her. He said my parents were followers of You-Know-Who. I think he meant the Dark Lord. I'm not sure though._

 _I know my parents had a friend called the Dark Lord. A funny name. But I think that's who Weasley meant, 'cause I've heard him referred to like that before. Weird. Why can't people just say his name? It's strange._

 _And why is it bad that they were friends with him? I know Harry's parents and the Dark Lord fought once. It must have been bad. I asked mummy and daddy about it in a letter, but they just said 'what's in the past, should remain there'. I think they don't like to talk about him because he's dead. They must miss him, I think. I'd miss Ninny if she died. It's not polite to talk about the dead to their loved ones, daddy said._

 _Bye!_

 _Octavia Zabini Xo_

* * *

Octavia skipped through the dungeon corridors, humming wretchedly as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Her excitement was palpable in her cheeriness, having just come from the Great Hall. Her owl, Lola, brought her parcels from her home; updated supplies for her classes after some of her belongings mysteriously disappeared from her dorm-room. She was pleased to discover that the earmuffs her mother had sent her for Herbology were a glittering purple, matching her safety gloves. She really loved purple. It was just such a pretty colour. The items were made better by the wisps of silver silk that weaved through them elegantly. So pretty.

Instantly, Octavia was yanked from her thoughts as she turned into an adjacent corridor, coming face to face with Draco Malfoy. Stumbling slightly, Octavia attempted to halt her steps quick enough to prevent a close proximity to the boy who strode toward her, a look of disdain on his aristocratic features. But she was unsuccessful, tumbling right into him as she grunted.

"Sorry," Octavia mumbled, quickly making an attempt to scurry away from the boy who was once her friend.

"Watch where you are going, filthy squib." Draco spat, shoving her away from him forcibly.

Octavia squealed as he shoved her, the force causing her to land on her bottom with an audible thud and whimper. He didn't even spare her a glance before he stepped around her and continued his brisk pace down the corridor.

She was used to it by now. It had become a regular occurrence for Draco to shove her when nobody else was around. When others were around, however, he merely snarled barbed insults and mocked her for her lack of magic.

Whilst Octavia had already grown accustomed to his treatment of her in the three years of being at Hogwarts, the sting did not lessen over time. Each time, her heart clenched wretchedly and tears welled up in her anguished eyes. But she kept quiet, no longer asking why he was cruel to her now. Because now, she knew the answer.

He hated what she was. His disdain for her Wizard-born status surpassed his like for her. And now he liked her no more. Now … Now Draco Malfoy despised her.

And he sure as hell let her know every chance he got.

* * *

Fourth Year

* * *

 _Dear My Diary,_

 _I've had the best Christmas holiday EVER! I don't want it to end. I don't want to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow. I want to stay at home like this forever._

 _Finally, mum and dad let Hermione stay overnight at the Manor. They were very formal with her, though. I think Ninny felt a little uncomfortable at dinner. It was a bit awkward. Blaise kept_ _ **staring**_ _at Ninny all through dinner and – get this – he_ _ **blushed**_ _when she passed him the salt. I choked on my butterbeer when he blushed. It made him go redder and I couldn't stop myself from laughing. I've never seen him blush before. Hermione went a little red too. It was so funny._

 _Mum and dad weren't happy about it though. I think they gave him a stern talking to 'cause they summoned him to the parlour after dinner. He didn't come and play with us in the gardens after mum and dad talked to him. So I think he got in trouble. I don't mind though. I like it when he's in trouble. I feel like it's a little payback for how he treats me at school._

 _When we're back at the manor, he's nice to me. We play and get along fine. We went to Diagon Alley together after Christmas to go shopping and have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't even invite Draco, thank Merlin! But I know when we go back to Hogwarts he'll ignore me again. He always does._

 _He lets Draco be mean to be and doesn't stick up for me. I know why. Draco's in charge. His family is more powerful and wealthy. So Draco's in charge and the others listen to him. They don't go against him. I get it. But I wish it wasn't like that. I wish our society wasn't like that. But it is._

 _Maybe it will be different when we're all grown up and adults. When we're not at school anymore. Draco will have to see me at the pureblood events all the time. And then we'll have to be around each other on the vacations that our families take together. We haven't gone on any vacations lately 'cause we've been at Hogwarts. But when school's over, it'll start happening again. He'll have to be nice to me when we're adults. Right? I hope so. I think so. I'm sure he'll be nicer to me after Hogwarts. He'll grow up. And I'll be married then, I think. So he can't be mean to me, because I'll be a wife and a mother. It would be inappropriate if he was cruel to me._

 _I don't think that I'll be in an arranged marriage though. Dad rejected all the offers that came through. He almost considered the Crabbes, but I begged him not to. I don't like Vincent in that way. He's stupid and mean. And his family is so not nearly as rich as ours. I would have a monthly allowance. I don't want that. I'd have to …_ _ **budget**_ _. Can you imagine? It sounds awful. It would probably only be about 10,000 galleons a month too! There's no way I could manage that. I spend that in one shopping spree alone! Unthinkable._

 _I like having money. I want to marry someone rich if I have to marry. But I don't know if dad will make me be a wife or not. I'm a Wizard-born, so I don't get many offers. Not like the Greengrass girls. They're already contracted to suitors, but they still get offers. More than I do. Even though my dowry is more. But it's not about that. It's about status. I don't have a good status anymore. I'm still pureblood though so that's why I get offers. Just not many. So far, I have offers from the Crabbes, Goyles, Longbottoms, Macmillans, Puceys and Diggorys. Dad rejected them all because they're not as rich as us. But I think he's reconsidering the Puceys._

 _Adrian is ok. He's pretty handsome, actually. One year older than I am. He doesn't talk much to me anymore, but when we were children he played with me all the time. He was always nice to me. Although I think he likes … boys. I think he fancied Blaise. I don't know for sure though. I hope dad doesn't pick him. I wouldn't mind if he picked the Diggorys. Cedric Diggory is_ _ **so**_ _handsome. And sweet. I don't know him, really. But I see him around school. He's a year older too._

 _I thought it was weird that the Diggorys made an offer on me, because they don't come to the pureblood functions. They're not invited. But that's because they're poor. Not poor like the Weasleys. But so poor that Cedric would have to work to keep us going … I might have to work! Can you imagine? No. Dad would not even consider Cedric … it wouldn't be a proper arrangement._

 _Anyway! I got so much stuff for Christmas. I didn't get a werewolf … again! But, I'll keep working on that. Dad will crack eventually. I did get a Hippogriff though. I haven't named him yet … he just kind of chases my unicorns around the gardens. He's a bit mean … he might need to be separated or maybe get a friend … I'll talk to dad about that. I also got two fairies and a silver and purple cage to put them in. I think the fairies actually built the cage themselves. So cute._

 _Although they're kind of annoying right now. They keep hiding my shoes around the Manor. I might need to keep them caged while I'm at Hogwarts. They hid mum's wand in the middle of the night and they trapped Pinky in my Hogwarts trunk for three days. Mum wasn't happy._

 _I got lots of new gowns and robes too. I like the pink gown the best. I'll wear it to the summer ball at the Greengrass Château. I'm absolutely dreading the ball though. I've been_ _forced_ _to practice the Amare Chorum every day since I've been home for Christmas. It's the courting dance that we do when we come of age, but that isn't for another three years! We have to do the dance at the balls though, but they're not really taken seriously until you're coming out. So I can do the dance with Blaise if I want. But when I'm coming out, only potential suitors can dance with me. It's annoying. I hate dancing in front of people._

 _And I don't really wanna dance with Crabbe or Goyle, or whoever in front of everyone. Embarrassing! I wish Ninny was a pureblood 'cause then she could come to the balls with me and we could dance together and have fun._

 _I should go pack now anyway for Hogwarts. I haven't even started to pack what I'm taking with me to school. I think I'll take the shoes that Ninny bought me; they're black heels but with red underneath. She said they're designer but I've never heard of Mr. Redbottom. Perhaps she meant Longbottom … Maybe a distant relative of the Longbottoms? Hmm. I'll have to look into that._

 _Oh well._

 _Bye for now biatch! Xo_

* * *

Fifth Year

* * *

 _Dear Me!_

 _So! I didn't go to Hogsmeade today 'cause Ninny was going with Ron and Harry, and they don't like me because of my family and I'm a Slytherin. I have no one else to go with, so I just stayed at the castle. It was pretty quiet, so I mostly just stayed in the common room. I can do that when Draco isn't around, 'cause then no one bothers me and I can just do whatever I want. It was nice._

 _Anyways, I got bored after a few hours and wandered around the castle instead. I like to watch the portraits on the fourth floor sometimes, 'cause there's this Knight in one and he's really silly but funny. So I did that for a while._

 _When I was walking back to the common room, though, I met this really strange girl. She's in my year and I've heard people talk about her before. She gets bullied, like me and Ninny. People call her 'Loony Lovegood', which is pretty mean. But anyway, she's actually super nice. Yeah, she's weird but she's funny. She talks about these creature things called Niggles that I've never heard of. I'm pretty sure they're not real, but it doesn't matter._

 _She was wandering around the castle 'cause people stole her shoes and hid them around Hogwarts. Luna said it was the Niggles, but I don't think it was. It was definitely people. I didn't wanna tell her that though, in case she cried. I like her. They should call her 'Lovely Luna'._

 _I asked about her blood-status and she said she was a half-blood. That's good, 'cause I might be able to get dad to invite her to the pureblood society function over Christmas. It's our turn to host it again. I think that it's taking place at our compound in Sicily. I'm not sure, though. It'd be nice if they let her come with us. I get a bit lonely at the functions. No one talks to me when Draco arrives. Unless their parents make them talk to me._

 _Sometimes I feel like I'm up for sale at those damn things. All the adults watch me constantly and ask me loads of questions about my interests and stuff. I know they're just seeing if they want their sons to marry me when I come of age. I heard mum and dad talk about it and apparently there's been a few offers again. But I don't want any of them._

 _Blaise said that because I'm a Wizard-born I won't need to marry anyone. He said that nobody would make an offer for me because they don't want Wizard-borns in their blood-lines. He wasn't being cruel, though. It's true. Purebloods don't usually mix with Wizard-borns. I know most of them judge me for what I am, but I can't help it. I could have been banished if my parents didn't love me so much. I know that._

 _Hopefully dad rejects the offers though. He's really picky. He'd only send me to a fiancé that's as rich as we are, or more. There's not many other families with our wealth in Britain. He doesn't want someone to make an offer on me because of my dowry. But there's only the Malfoys, Notts and Shacklebolts that are wealthier than us. The Shacklebolts aren't like us though. They don't come to the functions and they don't do arranged marriages. So … yeah._

 _The Notts only have one son, Theodore. He's handsome, but … I don't want to marry him. We used to be friends when we were children, but not anymore. He's friends with Draco. And Theo is arranged to marry Daphne Greengrass. Draco is arranged to marry her sister, Astoria. But I'm glad for that. It means there's not a chance that dad tries to arrange contracts between us. I hate him and would rather eat hippogriff dung every day than marry that prat._

 _I wonder if dad will introduce me to families outside of Britain. There's more of the 'Sacreds' across Europe. We're one of the 'Sacred Thirty-Four'. That's the European pureblood families. We're made to memorise the names when we're young. I don't know why. I don't really think it matters, really. Pureblood or muggle-born, we're all the same. We're all equals. But I don't say that to the other purebloods. They already don't like me because I'm a Wizard-born._

 _Anyways, it's almost dinner time so I really should get going. I want to get there before Millicent does. Sometimes she hexes me at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall or sneaks puking pastels into my food._

 _Ttyl! (Ninny taught me that. It means 'talk to you later' in the muggle world.)_

 _Octavia Z Xo_

* * *

Sixth Year

* * *

 _Dear me,_

 _I'm writing in you while I'm in the hospital wing. Everyone else is in class today, but I'm staying here. Fucking Millicent Bulstrode put itching powder in my bed last night and now I'm covered in a disgusting rash. My face is so ugly and red. It's so fucking itchy, I can barely write a word without squirming around in the bed. And! Get this! Madame Pomphrey said I'm well enough to go back to class. As if! I'm staying here for the whole day. There's absolutely no way I'll go to class looking like this. If she has a problem with that, she can speak to my dad._

 _I don't know what to do about Millicent. She just won't stop picking on me. She stole all my underwear and hung them up on the torches in the dungeons. It took so long to get them all back. And it hardly helped with Peeves throwing dung-bombs at me the whole time. I just keep telling myself that there's only the rest of this year and seventh year before I can leave Hogwarts. This torture chamber. But then I remember that I have to see these people for the rest of my life. I have to be nice to them at pureblood gatherings and vacations._

 _To make matters worse – that's right, it gets worse! – Draco Malfoy, the prat, told everyone that I love Professor Snape. He spread a rumour about me hiding a photograph of Snape under my pillow at home_ _ **and**_ _that I named my favourite unicorn after him (I didn't. I named him Zeus). And now everyone thinks I have a crush on him. It's so embarrassing. Every time he checks my potion in class, the Slytherins make coo-ing noises and sing songs they made up about me and Snape in a tree or something. I swear_ _ **that's**_ _the reason I get bad grades in potions. Not because I'm bad at the subject. It's because everyone makes a big deal whenever he checks my potion._

 _Hopefully everyone goes back to ignoring me soon. When Draco ignores me – which he does for a few weeks at a time – everyone else forgets that I exist. And then I can just be by myself or with Ninny and Luna. And nobody picks on me. But when he's mean to me, everyone else is too. They're all followers! Ninny says that in the muggle world, they call people like that 'sheep'. Because they follow. So that's what they are. They're all a bunch of fucking sheep and I hate them all._

 _I know they won't forget about me anytime soon though. People will laugh about my rash. Nobody has seen my rash except for the Slytherins 'cause I had to go through the common room like this. Draco saw me and pointed it out to everyone. So now they all know. And now they'll pick on me again. They'll all call me a squib again and laugh at me._

 _Just two more years. I'm already halfway through my sixth year. It's not long now and then I'll only have to see these people at functions a couple of times a year. That's all. And at least then, I'll be with my parents. Nobody picks on me when they're around. Draco's polite to me when we're around the adults. He even danced with me after his mum made him at the last ball. It was so awkward. I kept stepping on his toes. Sometimes by accident. Sometimes just to let him know that I hate him. I paid for that though. It wasn't long until I was hit with a bat-bogey hex on the Hogwarts Express back to school. I really need to stop thinking that he'll leave me alone if I provoke him. I need to hide from him again. When I do that, he sometimes lets me be._

 _Oh! I almost forgot!_

 _Not everyone's mean to me. When we went to Hogsmeade last weekend, Draco shoved me outside of Madame Binkette's Ice Cream Parlour and I dropped my cloud-flavoured ice-cream. Cedric Diggory bought me a new one 'cause I didn't bring enough money with me. Well I did actually. I just spent it all on shoes at Hagrags Wizardwear. But it was nice of him. And then he walked me back to the castle 'cause I was still crying about my ice-cream. He's nice. But I think he's with Cho Chang. Not that he likes me that way anyway._

 _I know his father put in an offer for my hand in marriage last year. But daddy rejected it because they're poor. Oh well. Mummy said next year's Christmas Ball will be the biggest yet as it's the three hundredth year anniversary of the functions. Families from all across Europe will be there. She said that meant more suitors for me to meet. I'm excited. It could mean I meet a suitor from Italy, where my family are from. I know a little Italian, so that'd be fun. Maybe I could marry one from Italy and go and live there after Hogwarts. I could be away from Draco and the others that way._

 _Although I would miss Ninny and Lovely Luna. Maybe they could come with me? Or we could just get portkeys to see each other. Maybe I could meet some new friends. Pureblood ones that I can hang out with at the functions. That'd be nice._

 _At the functions, though, I hang out with everyone. Like Pansy, Astoria and the rest. Even Draco. But it's all fake. They just pretend to like me. And when we come back to Hogwarts, it all goes back to normal. They ignore me mostly. Until Draco picks me as a target again. And then I'm bullied all over again._

 _It hurts. When Blaise stands there and does nothing. He doesn't even look like he wants to help me. He just stands there. One time Draco threw me in the bath in the Prefect's bathroom and Blaise just stood there. He doesn't help me._

 _I told mum and dad some of the things that have happened. They spoke to Blaise but nothing was done about it. Mum said I can go to Beauxbatons if I want. But then I'd have to leave Ninny and Luna. I don't know about that. I said I'd think about it. I kind of want to on days like this. But I don't want to start all over again. Without friends._

 _Maybe I'll meet witches and wizards that go to that school at the Christmas Ball next year. That's ages away though … I dunno. I'll ask the crystal ball in Divination. If it doesn't tell me, I'll ask Professor Trelawney. She'll know what to do. She's a Seer._

 _Ugh. Madame Pomphrey is trying to get rid of me again. I'm just going to ignore her and keep writing. She'll go away if I pretend she's not there. It worked last ti –_

 _Sorry about that! Madame Pomphrey – the she-devil – took my diary from me! How rude is that? She sent me away so I just went back to the common room. It's empty right now 'cause everyone's in class. I'm so annoyed. I'm going to write to my dad about this! She can't treat me like that! I'm a Zabini! Who does she even think she is? Stupid hag._

 _Ok, bye then. O.Z. Xo_

* * *

Seventh Year

* * *

Following an exhausting day of extensive shopping at Diagon Alley with Hermione and Luna, Octavia stepped into the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, her shopping bags weighing down her aching arms. The girls had already departed Diagon Alley, leaving Octavia to be the last of the trio to use the public floo-network. Her feet were dreadfully sore from tottering around the shops for hours upon end in her stilettos, her curls wild and dishevelled around her flushed face.

Octavia eyed the clay bowl of floo-powder longingly before flickering her gaze back to her arms clad with shopping bags. A grunt escaped her lips as she shimmied the bags around to one arm, freeing herself to grab the sparkling green powder.

"Octavia!" An unfamiliar voice shouted out, catching her annoyed attention.

She always was just a little bit on the grumpy side following a shopping spree that exhausted both, her body and vault at Gringotts. Her expression of vexation, however, quickly gave way to a polite smile as Cedric Diggory approached her.

"Here," Cedric smiled, fishing out a handful of the green powder. "Allow me. You have your hands full."

Octavia blushed profusely at his gentlemanly gesture, Cedric smiling bashfully in response. He didn't make any move to throw the powder in the fireplace as they stared at one another, Octavia forgetting her manners momentarily.

"Uh …" Cedric hesitated as Octavia continued to smile stupidly at him. "Where to?"

"Oh … _Oh!_ " Octavia sputtered, her face reddening. "Sorry, uh … thank you."

Cedric merely inclined his head in response, the smile still gracing his inviting lips. Her gaze instantly fixed on the pink lips that his handsome face featured before she shook herself out of her little daze.

"Um … Zabini Manor, thank you." Octavia spoke after clearing her throat.

"Not a problem," Cedric responded, flashing a grin at her. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Octavia."

Octavia smiled in response, not sure how else to respond. He returned the smile before tossing the powder at her heels, calling out her destination as he stepped backwards. The emerald flames soared up and consumed Octavia as she was yanked through the floo-network, arriving in the central fireplace of the foyer at home.

Coughing lightly, Octavia shook out her curls as she stepped out of the fireplace, frowning as she noticed that both parents and her twin were standing in the atrium.

"Octavia, dear," her mother greeted, eyeing her shopping bags with a gentle smile. "Best move out of the way quickly."

"Why?" Octavia asked before the fireplace roared behind her and she was sent sprawling to the marble floor.

The dozens of shopping bags and parcels went flying in the air as Octavia landed face-first onto the hard flooring, accompanied by an audible thud. Her forehead connected harshly with the marble floor as her mother gasped. She groaned as she moved to sit up on her knees, her hand rubbing at her throbbing forehead as three pairs of footsteps came from behind her.

"Oh, Octavia," Lady Malfoy's graceful drawl sounded out. "I do apologise, dear."

Octavia instantly scowled, a pair of black expensive shoes walking around her, stopping right in front of her knees. She knew who it was without taking her gaze from the dyed-black unicorn-leather shoes. The bane of her fucking existence. Draco Malfoy, Asshole Extraordinaire.

The devil himself knelt before her, his expression stoic as his cold grey eyes swiftly scanned her scowling face, Blaise snickering quietly at her embarrassing display. Of course he was though; Draco was here now. Therefore Blaise was instantly a prat to her.

Reminding herself that adults were present, Octavia forced her expression into one of a polite greeting as Draco extended his hand toward her.

"Are you injured, O?" Draco asked, his cold eyes suggesting that he couldn't care less if she was hurt or not.

Her heart ached wretchedly as he referred to her by her nickname used by family and friends only. The nickname that she used to adore coming from his lips. The nickname that, when he spoke it when they were children, sent her tummy spiralling into a flipping marathon. A nickname that he had not used in many years.

"I'm fine, thank you." Octavia clipped, placing her slender hand in his.

Octavia furrowed her brow in annoyance as his large hand clasped around hers, his free hand gripping her waist firmly as he helped her to her feet. Once she stood steadily, Octavia discreetly whacked his hand that lingered on her waist, her hazel eyes narrowing at him as he clenched his jaw.

"Octavia," Leonardo scolded, his tone sharp, indicating that he saw her little act of impertinence.

Flipping her wild curls over her shoulder, Octavia raised her nose snootily in the air as Draco removed his hand from her waist, his grey eyes glinting with malice. The moment he ceased supporting her weight, the room became blurred in her vision, Lord Malfoy's formal greeting inaudible to her ringing ears. Her legs buckled beneath her suddenly, a groan escaping her parted lips before consciousness left her.

Draco instantly grabbed her before she could collide with the marble ground once more, slipping his arms beneath her and hauling her up against him. He clenched his jaw as the unconscious squib lay in his arms, bridal-style, her mother frantically demanding that a house-elf summon a Healer.

His cold grey eyes scanned over her relaxed face before resting on the reddening mark on her forehead. Merely a bump and bruise, nothing too serious he gathered from his visual assessment. But he held her delicately in his arms regardless.

"Draco," Leonardo drawled, extending his owns arms for the transfer of Octavia.

Draco appeared to hesitate, if only for a moment. He relented, however, manoeuvring Octavia's limp form into her father's arms. His jaw clenched as he watched Leonardo carry Octavia up the grand staircase, Blaise by his side, the shopping bags in tow.

Draco was not concerned about her physical health. She had merely banged her head when she fell and stood far too quickly given the impact. The dizziness is undoubtedly what had her fainting right in front of him.

He couldn't help but feel a little disappointment, however. It meant that she was likely to spend the remainder of the day in her bedroom, resting. She would not be at dinner. He would not see her for the remainder of the visit to Zabini Manor. Meaning that it would be another week before he would see the squib again; on the first day back at Hogwarts for their seventh and final year.

Yes. Draco was quite disappointed that Octavia had found herself injured that day. For a part of him – a part that had yet to dwindle over six long years – yearned for her presence. A part of him wished to be in her company, no matter how hostile.

However, _most_ of him ached to torment her.

For she was nothing more than a filthy little squib.


	4. Chapter 4

Octavia reclined in the bench seat by the window, her curls tied into a high pony-tail as she gazed at the passing scenery. It was her favourite part of travelling on the Hogwarts Express, hands down. The view. The train whizzed through the forestry and nature of Britain, Octavia watching it all blur by through the square window.

Hermione sat opposite her, a copy of _Hogwarts A History_ open in her lap as she read absorbedly. Octavia couldn't even guess how many times Ninny had read that blasted book. Harry and Ron sat beside Hermione, both of them indulging in a game of Exploding Snap. The cards were surrounded by sweet wrappers and the residue crumbs of the pumpkin pasties they had greedily consumed earlier in the journey.

As Harry and Ron were not Octavia's biggest fans – something that had not changed over their seven years at Hogwarts – they barely conversed with her during the journey. In fact, they expertly ignored her for the vast majority of the time, pretending that she wasn't even in the compartment with them. They had only acknowledged her when the food-trolley came by, and Harry had asked if she wanted anything. She had grown accustomed to their treatment of her over the year, though. But it still send pangs of rejection through her at times.

Octavia's head snapped to the side as the compartment door was wrenched open, Lovely Luna appearing at the threshold. A smile graced Octavia's plump pink lips at seeing her friend, grateful for the pleasant company that she would provide. While Octavia thoroughly enjoyed becoming engrossed in the scenery of the Highlands that they were now passing, a little conversation would be delightful in that moment. For not a soul had spoken to her in the two hours since Hermione opened her favourite book.

"Hello," Luna chimed, entering the compartment as she clutched a stack of magazines against her chest.

The boys grunted in a gesture of greeting, not tearing their eyes away from their apparently fascinating game of exploding snap. Hermione didn't even blink, for she was much too absorbed in her reading it seemed.

"Hey," Octavia smiled, glancing at the magazines briefly. "The Quibbler?"

"Yes," Luna nodded, seating herself beside Octavia. "Released this morning, actually. Father printed a rather interesting article about wrackspurts."

"Really?" Octavia responded, feigning interest in the rag.

Luna nodded, placing the stack of magazines on the seat before correcting the crumbled hem of her atrocious yellow skirt.

The boys erupted into a mixture of cheers and boos as Harry triumphed in their card game, Hermione emitting an irritated sigh as she snapped her book shut dramatically.

"Do you mind?" Hermione hissed, the boys not even registering that she spoke.

Octavia rolled her eyes as Harry goaded Ron, the latter of the two turning red out of annoyance at his failure.

"Oh Luna," Hermione smiled, having just noticed her friend's presence. "How are you?"

"Good, thank you." Luna responded warmly as the boys reset their game, Ron grumbling under his breath.

"What a lovely dress," Hermione commented, Octavia seeing the lie in her brown eyes.

"Thank you," Luna smiled, glancing down at her fluorescent yellow attire, scattered with images of lemons and plums. An odd combination, Octavia mused disapprovingly.

"Where were you?" Octavia asked, changing the topic from the crime against fashion.

"Hm?" Luna hummed, meeting her friend's curious hazel orbs.

"In the train," Octavia explained. "Where were you?"

"Oh, I was with Neville." Luna answered, Octavia grinning widely in response.

"How is Neville?" Hermione asked pleasantly.

"Yeah, Luna." Octavia winked. "How is your _lover_?"

"He's not her lover, O." Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes as Luna blushed lightly.

"Coulda fooled me." Octavia smirked deviously. "It would explain Luna's absence for the past five hours."

Luna cleared her throat, her cheeks bright red as the boys began to eavesdrop obviously.

"What happened Luna?" Octavia teased. "Did you make good use of the storage compartment, huh?"

"No," Luna muttered, her face the colour of a tomato. "We were discussing the wrackspurt article, if you must know."

"Sure you were," Octavia nodded, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"What about you, _O_?" Hermione interrupted.

"What about me?" Octavia frowned. "I've been here the whole time."

"Did you tell Luna about your little encounter with Cedric Diggory?" Hermione asked politely, her brown eyes twinkling.

"Yeah," Octavia shrugged casually.

"Oh," Hermione nodded, looking a little put out. "Well, ok then."

Octavia grinned, relishing in Hermione's failed attempt to embarrass her. She had certainly missed the regular company of her two closest friends.

"What's this about Diggory?" Ron asked, frowning as he glanced between the three girls.

"Octavia and Cedric ran into one another at the Leaky Cauldron last week," Luna explained, her voice singing like a wind-chime.

"So?" Harry frowned, the boys not grasping the implications in the slightest.

"O fancies him," Hermione stated casually, placing her hefty book in her bag that lay at her feet.

"I don't," Octavia scowled, her cheeks flushing lightly.

"Oh, come on." Hermione scoffed, zipping her bag shut. "You've fancied him since he bought you an ice-cream in Hogsmeade."

"I have not," Octavia gasped, appearing thoroughly offended.

"A Slytherin fancying a Hufflepuff?" Ron scoffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "If that's true, then I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Octavia scowled, finding their prejudicial views against her house quite offensive.

"No offense," Harry shrugged. "But … well, you're a Slytherin."

"Good observation, Captain Obvious." Octavia rolled her eyes.

"Well, come on." Harry laughed. "As if a Slytherin would pay any attention to a Hufflepuff."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, glaring at Harry.

"Slytherins hate everyone." Ron stated as though it were obvious. " _Especially_ Hufflepuffs."

"I don't hate any house," Octavia scowled at the two boys. "It's rude to stereotype, you know. Not all Slytherins are bad. But you would know that if you just gave me a chance."

Ron scoffed indelicately, turning his attention back to the deck of cards on the seat. Harry, however, just stared at Octavia curiously for a moment before helping Ron reset the game.

"Didn't Cedric say he would see you at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, filling the uncomfortable silence that consumed the compartment.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, grateful for the distraction from the little spat.

"Isn't he a year above us?" Luna asked dreamily.

"Um," Octavia frowned. "Yeah, actually."

"Then he won't see you at school." Hermione stated, gazing at the wizard-born curiously. "He's already graduated."

"Perhaps you misheard him," Luna shrugged dismissively.

"Uh," Octavia frowned. "Maybe, yeah."

Despite agreeing with her friends, Octavia could have sworn that he said he would see her at Hogwarts. They hadn't said much to one another during their brief encounter, so it wasn't likely that she had mistaken his limited statements as something other than what they were. But Hermione was correct. He was in the year above them at Hogwarts. And Octavia was now in her seventh and final year. She must have misheard him.

Oh well.

"Congrats, by the way." Octavia spoke, catching Hermione's attention once again. "On Head Girl. Blaise got his letter a few days ago, it said that you got the position too."

"Yes," Hermione beamed proudly, crossing her legs. "I expected it thought, so it's hardly a surprise."

"Of course," Octavia rolled her eyes.

"Your brother is Head Boy?" Luna asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded.

"I wonder why Malfoy didn't get the position," Hermione mused, voicing Luna's thoughts.

It was common knowledge that Draco Malfoy was the top-scoring student in their year, followed by Hermione and then Blaise. Octavia, however, was definitely on the bottom when it came to academic results. She hadn't even made Prefect in their sixth year. But neither had Blaise, which added to his allocation of Head Boy all the more peculiar. Draco Malfoy was the Slytherin Prefect in sixth year; much to Octavia's dismay. He wouldn't hesitate to dish out detentions in her direction for merely breathing and attending Hogwarts.

"He turned the offer down," Octavia shrugged, opening a packet of Hermione's muggle sweets … something called 'crisps'.

"How would you know?" Hermione probed politely.

"Mother and Father talked to Blaise about it when we went out of dinner," Octavia sighed, sniffing one of the crisps as she eyed it suspiciously.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we went to Paris and dined near the Eiffel Tower in the late evening," Octavia sighed, inspecting the packet of crisps for a moment. "But father doesn't like the Eiffel Tower, so we left early and came home."

"No," Hermione laughed. "What happened with Malfoy and the Head Boy position? Why did he turn it down?"

"Ohhh," Octavia sang, her plump lips shaped into an 'o'. "Uh, he's too busy I guess. He's Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and still the Prefect for our house."

"Who cares?" Ron scowled. "He's a git."

Hums of agreeance rippled through the compartment at Ron's statement, absolutely everyone sharing his sentiments about Draco Malfoy. Although Octavia would have used a much nastier word to describe the 'git' in question. Perhaps 'demon'?

"Ok, everyone!" Hermione declared, standing from her seat with an air of importance. "Time to change into our robes. We'll be arriving shortly."

* * *

Dumbledore's annual motivational speech had finally ended after what seemed like an eternity. Octavia barely listened to a word he said anymore. She almost scoffed recalling the first speech she had been privy to by the Headmaster in her first year and how excited she was to hear it. But things had changed as the years went on. And now Dumbledore's speeches were merely the introduction to a year of torment that she would endure by her former friends. Her supposed equals.

And they would spend the year, like each before that, letting her know just how inferior to them she actually was. They would use their wands against her. They would sabotage her potions and classwork. They bully her and make her cry. Like they did each year they had attended Hogwarts together.

So the very moment that Dumbledore seated himself at the grand staff table on the altar and food appeared on the tables of the Great Hall, Octavia dug into her dinner in an unladylike manner. The quicker she finished, the better.

Particularly given the fact that Millicent sat a few people down from her, glaring at her maliciously. Yes. Octavia wished to finish her dinner as quickly as possible. To prevent the inevitable as long as possible. For the glint in Millicent's hard eyes informed Octavia that she would regain her position as the Slytherin House victim quickly this year.

Octavia didn't wish for a repeat of fifth year, when Millicent had bribed Peeves with dung bombs to pour a jug of pumpkin juice all over her head on their first night back at Hogwarts. So the quicker she removed herself from the Great Hall, the quicker she was out of the firing line of the bully.

On top of her concerns about Millicent's malevolent intentions, Octavia had to worry about the boy who caused it all. The boy who could stop her torment with a click of his fingers, or increase it to torturous levels with a mere nod of his head. Draco Malfoy.

The devil in question sat further down the long table, but that fact hardly soothed Octavia's bubbling anxiety. For she could feel his cold grey eyes fixed on the side of her face as she gulfed down copious amounts of cauldron cakes. She didn't meet his intense stare. It would only serve as an invitation for him to initiate his torment of her.

Instead, Octavia kept her eyes on the dwindling food supply on her plate. Hoping that he would grant her a speck of mercy in their final year at Hogwarts. Wishing that he would forget all about her and focus only on his studies and extracurricular activities. And by 'extracurricular activities', Octavia meant his incessant fucking of every girl in their year, of course.

A repulsive thought. She almost shuddered at the image of Draco Malfoy between someone's legs. Merely because she just couldn't wrap her mind around the girl's motives. How could someone allow a despicable specimen like Draco Malfoy to touch her? It was unfathomable. Yes, he was aesthetically pleasing. His jaw was masculine and defined. He was tall and well-built, his school shirt tight against his muscles in some areas. His silvery blonde hair fell over his forehead, brushing against his brow lightly. His pink lips were inviting. And his eyes resembled molten lava or cold ice depending on his temperament.

So Octavia could understand that Draco Malfoy possessed a physical appeal. But inside, he was rotten and ugly. Inside, he was a cruel and awful person that took pleasure in the anguish and distress of others.

Alas, the girls in the school – well, most of them – didn't seem to care about that. They cared only about his handsome appearance and overflowing vault at Gringotts. They cared about his power and authority, but not his decayed soul. Something Octavia just couldn't wrap her head around.

Perhaps it was because she already possessed abundant wealth and status. Even as wizard-born, Octavia was the heiress to a powerful and wealthy pureblood family. Her status alone secured her respect from those around her. Excluding those within her society, evidently. But she suspected that their treatment of her would change once they graduated. It would be improper to treat her as such at pureblood gatherings and official functions. Although it was rather improper to treat her with disrespect anywhere.

Sculling the last of her butterbeer, Octavia sighed heavily as she felt her tummy swell uncomfortably. It was merely a side-effect of overconsumption and fast eating. But it had to be done in order for her to make a timely escape from her fellow Slytherins.

Octavia pushed herself from the table, scurrying out of the Great Hall hurriedly as the vast majority of students remained seated, enjoying their first night back at Hogwarts. But the atmosphere was not celebratory to Octavia. It was thick and frightening. For she knew that Draco and Millicent were watching her early escape intently, feeling their eyes burning into her back as she fled the Great Hall.

And so Octavia Zabini's seventh and final year had begun. The wizard-born already escaping the company of her peers in favour of hiding behind the drapes of her bed, wishing to be left alone.

A wish that never came to be.

* * *

Pulling out her textbooks and supplies, Octavia bit her lip as Professor Snape stormed into the classroom, his robes billowing behind him forebodingly. Whilst Octavia absolutely loathed potions with a burning passion, she barely had any choice in selecting the subject in her seventh year. Her father had insisted – in other words, _demanded_ – that she choose the subject for her final year of schooling. Of course, she had relented, realising after many lectures that she did not have a say in the matter. Her father's word was final.

In an effort to shy away from the bullying she was normally subjected to in the class, Octavia had chosen the front row for her seat for the rest of the year. The closer she was to Professor Snape, the less likely it was that her potions would be meddled with by Draco, she assumed. Perhaps he wouldn't even speak to her. Perhaps he would leave her be.

But, of course, it was foolish of her to allow hope for such things. For the moment she had taken her seat at the front of the classroom, Draco seated himself at the table directly behind her. As the number of students that had selected potions in their final year was minimal, the seating arrangements were not orchestrated by Professor Snape. This allowed Octavia to sit beside Hermione in the class, as Harry and Ron chose to partner up for potions.

Glancing behind her discreetly, Octavia noted that Draco's partner was Theodore Nott. The latter didn't pay any attention to her, but Draco was already glowering directly at her with palpable distaste. Great.

Flicking her attention back to the Professor, Octavia sighed as he waved his wand at the blackboard, instructions appearing instantly.

"There will be no meddling in this class," Snape drawled tediously, his ominous air demanding silence instantly. "I expect you all to work with your partners in silence, otherwise face detention in the company of yours truly."

The nine students in the classroom nodded to show their understanding, all seated silently at their tables.

"You may begin," Snape drawled, his black beady eyes scanning around the handful of seventh years suspiciously.

Octavia flipped open her textbook to the appropriate page, sighing deeply as she scanned the complex brewing method of the potion. Draught of Living Dead.

The potion essentially knocked the drinker out cold, forcing them into a deep sleep for an extended period of time. Octavia immediately began to day dream various scenarios of slipping Millicent and Draco the potion for the entire year. Yes, a very pleasant thought indeed.

Yanked out of her daydream, Octavia watched as a flower made of parchment hovered above her head before floating down and settling gracefully in front of her. A frown graced her pretty face as she snatched the flower discreetly, pulling it onto her lap before unwrapping it.

Despite the beauty of the parchment's form, the words inside were horrid.

 _Dear Squib,_

 _How does it feel to be the most repulsive being at Hogwarts? Do you toss and turn at night, unable to accept the fact that you even more disgusting than your mudblood of a potions partner?_

 _Do us all a favour and devour the entire contents of your potion once completed. Knowing you and your inability to produce a decent potion, I have high hopes that it will cause a permanent comatose state for yourself._

 _In doing so, I do not doubt that you would be providing your parents with a reprieve from the dishonour that you bring them. As well as gracing the entire student body with the pleasure of your permanent absence from this world._

 _Sincerely,_

 _A True Pureblood._

Octavia scowled, Hermione discreetly leaning to her side in a successful attempt to read the letter. Tears stung at her hazel orbs as the parchment suddenly turned to ash in her lap, vanishing with only soot in its wake.

Whilst Theodore could be heard snickering behind her, Octavia knew that he was not the one who wrote the letter. She recognised that handwriting in an instant, given that it was hardly the first unpleasant letter from him that she'd received over the years at Hogwarts. Octavia flicked her ringlets over her shoulder as she brushed the ash off of her short pleated skirt, pretending that nothing even happened. She ignored the sympathetic glance that Hermione offered her. She merely picked up her quill and began to write the instructions from the blackboard on her parchment.

Hermione, however, turned around to glower at the two boys behind them, her narrowed brown eyes glaring scathingly at Draco Malfoy. But he didn't even look at Hermione. He merely continued to stare at the back of O's head intently, his jaw clenched and his grey eyes alight with fury at her dismissal of him.

All the while, Octavia fought off the tears that stung her sad hazel orbs as she feigned indifference. She would not cry in front of him again if she could help it. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of her hurt reaction. She would ignore him, and hopefully he would forget about tormenting her soon.

But if the first ten minutes of the potions lesson was anything to go by, it was hardly likely that Draco would grant her a reprieve. In fact, it seemed that he was gearing up for her worst year at Hogwarts yet.

* * *

Octavia reclined against the thick tree trunk, gazing out into the Forbidden Forrest in the distance. It was not long after the dinner feast in the Great Hall, and instead of returning to the Slytherin common room, Octavia chose to visit her favourite spot in the castle grounds.

The Whomping Willow.

Her father, years ago, had informed her of how to calm the violent tree in order to enjoy its proximity. And its proximity was pleasant, indeed. She enjoyed so many things about the tree. The rustling of the leaves, the creak of the branches, the hum of life. Even if it was deemed to be off-limits to students and feared by most, Octavia liked the tree. It was misunderstood, in her opinion.

All it took was a speedy run to the base of the tree – making sure to avoid the swinging and attacking branches – and pressed the knot at the roots. The moment the knot was pressed, the Whomping Willow would emit a sound that Octavia liked to belief was a sigh of relief. For the tree would still, and be perfectly at ease.

Its thick branches and mass of lush, green leaves offered shade from the bright summer sun in the sky. On rainy days, it offered shelter from the water than fell from the cloudy skies above.

And, due to its reputation, the tree offered solitude. Peace and tranquillity. For most other students daren't approach the tree. In fact, they barely even noticed it.

Octavia could never understand how others ignored the tree. It was one of the first things she noticed about the castle grounds. She was immediately drawn to the tree, finding it to be ferocious and magnificent. Sympathy coursed through her as she watched the tree from a distance during her first year at Hogwarts. No one wanted to go near it, thinking it was cruel and violent. But Octavia just thought it was misunderstood and lonely. In pain.

Like she was.

So she took a liking to the tree. Always watching it from the stone benches on the grounds. And once she discovered – from her father – how to calm the tree, Octavia visited it regularly. A part of her felt that she was offering the tree a little company in its lonely days. The other part was seeking the same in return; company in her own lonely days.

Needless to say, Octavia felt as though she shared a bond with the tree. A silly notion, to some. Hermione didn't hesitate to dismiss her relationship with the tree, thinking it to be rather silly and nonsensical. But Octavia didn't care.

So she reclined against the thick trunk of the tree as its branches swayed in the warm, summer breeze. Her hazel eyes glimmered as she stared at the Forbidden Forrest, not really seeing it. She gazed at the woods, but didn't observe it. Her mind was elsewhere.

Her mind was on her final year at Hogwarts. Her final year with the tree.


	5. Chapter 5

Octavia scurried down the corridor, her books clutched tightly against her chest. The red-bottom stilettoes that adorned her feet clacked briskly against the coarse ground as she rushed to History of Magic. She wasn't exactly late for the class, but not being early would mean that she would be stuck in a crappy seat somewhere in the middle. She liked to sit in the front row of the class; it meant that there was less of a chance of being picked on by her fellow students.

The unknowing part was the worst, she decided. For Octavia had absolutely no idea which Slytherins would be joining her in the class, other than her brother of course. If Draco or Millicent had opted to study History of Magic, it would mean yet another another class where she endured endless torment. She didn't want that. So arriving early was Octavia's best chance at escaping the bullying antics of the two people she loathed most in this world.

Turning the corner hurriedly, Octavia collided with a solid body harshly. The impact sent her sprawling to the stone ground in a heap, her books and quills flying everywhere. Grunting, Octavia moved to sit on her knees, her hazel orbs gazing up at the object she collided with; her brother.

Blaise quirked his brow as he stared down at his twin curiously before a smirk twisted his lips. Surprisingly, however, Blaise made no snarky comments at her expense. Instead, he dropped to his knee and began to collect her scattered belongings from the floor. Blinking stupidly, Octavia merely watched him assist her, her eyes widening slightly as his comrade – Theodore Nott – followed his actions.

"Are you alright?" Theo asked, gathering her purple sparkling quills from the floor.

Octavia frowned in confusion as her gaze flickered between the two.

"O," Blaise snapped, clicking his fingers in front of her confused face. "Are you hurt?"

Glancing around the handful of students that occupied the corridor, all waiting for the door to their classroom to open, Octavia realised. There was no Draco Malfoy in sight. Therefore, her brother and Theo would be relatively nice to her. Because it suited them.

Scowling, Octavia snatched her books and glittery quills from the purebloods, rising hurriedly to her feet as she flicked her curls over her shoulder.

"Like you care," Octavia hissed, barging passed them, her nose raised snootily in the air.

The door to the classroom creaked open as she stomped toward it, students piling into the room instantly. Everyone apparently wished to have first pick of the seating arrangements, like Octavia had planned on doing.

Bustling over to the front row, Octavia didn't even glance at the Hufflepuff girl whom occupied the table before seating herself beside her. In silence, she set to placing her books on the hardwood table, tossing her quills before her. She would intentionally ignore the girl she sat with. The less attention she drew to herself, the better.

Chatter amongst the students echoed around the room as a few Slytherins took their time in seating themselves. The professor had his back to the excited students, leaning over his desk as he seemingly read over some notes. Octavia quickly glanced behind her in order to ascertain Blaise and Theo's choice of table, narrowing her eyes as she noticed they were directly behind her. Both of them offered Octavia a smile as they noticed her looking. She scowled, turning back to face the teacher.

"Alright everyone, take your seats," the professor ordered, still leaning over his notes.

Tilting her head, Octavia observed the teacher curiously, absolutely certain that she had heard his voice before. It was vaguely familiar, which was odd considering that the professor was new this year, having only just arrived to replace Professor Binns.

Well, at least Octavia assumed he had only just arrived given that there were no new faces at the staff table in the Great Hall thus far. It wasn't uncommon for new professors to arrive a little late in the first week of school, usually tying up loose ends and whatnot in their personal lives.

She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, however. Octavia, while struggling with the class, had always been rather fond of Professor Binns. She had always been absolutely enthralled by the professor, who was in fact, a ghost.

It was a shame, really, that he had crossed over in the afterlife.

"Open up your workbooks to page two-fifty-one," the professor instructed as he straightened and turned to face the class.

Octavia's mouth dropped open, gaping like a fish as the identity of the professor was revealed. None other than the former Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory. His brown eyes briefly flicked to Octavia, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he returned his formal composure to the class as a whole.

"I am Professor Diggory," Cedric introduced, leaning against his desk.

Several of the female students giggled and blushed as he spoke. He really was quite the commodity in his time at Hogwarts. It appeared that his newly found professor status only increased his desirability.

"I will be your professor for History of Magic here at Hogwarts." Cedric continued, his gaze flicking to a gaping Octavia again before addressing the rest of the class. "As you are aware, I attended Hogwarts last year as a student myself. Therefore, I am personally acquainted with some of my students. Do not mistake this for potential favourability, however. My grading and penalties will be just and fair to everyone in my classes."

Deflating at his statement, Octavia slumped in her chair, all hopes of flirting her way to a top-grade soaring out of the window. She was fleetingly counting on that possibility, considering how poorly she performed in the subject over the years at Hogwarts. Her father had insisted that she continue with the subject in her final year, despite the difficulties she faced with the topic. To say the least, Octavia wasn't the sharpest quill in the ink-pot.

"This term we will be studying the Witch Hunts that took place in the muggle world," Cedric lecture, placing his hands in his pockets as he reclined against his desk. "In particular, we will be focusing on the effects that these trials had on the Wizarding World and population."

Octavia bit her lip, snatching a purple glittery quill from her desk before straightening out her white parchment. Whilst parchment tended to be a beige colour usually, Octavia had hers special ordered from Dubai. A thick and crisp material that didn't tear or go soggy if liquid came into contact with it. The parchment cost a 'pretty knut', as her mother would say.

"Can anyone tell me which century these trials took place?" Cedric asked, his gaze scanning over the students expectantly.

Hesitantly, Octavia raised her hand in the air.

"Miss Zabini," Cedric said, allowing her to answer the question.

"Uh," Octavia began, blushing lightly as the whole class turned their attention to her. "It was … um … in the fourteenth century?"

"Correct," Cedric smiled, nodding his head. "Ten points to Slytherin."

The Slytherins in the class murmured in approval, some of them flashing grins at a blushing Octavia. She was certainly unaccustomed to the approval of her housemates. And she certainly made it her priority to avoid speaking in class as much as humanly possible. But she couldn't stop herself from answering Cedric's question. She had learned the answer earlier that morning in Muggle Studies, thank Merlin. An answer that she only remembered due to the illustrations in the textbook; she just couldn't help but internally mock the muggle fashion in that century. And now Cedric might even think that she was smart.

Did it even matter what he thought of her? He was her professor now. He wouldn't and couldn't think about her in the way she wanted him to. Not that he ever would even if he wasn't her professor. Their previous interactions were merely friendly on his part, not flirtatious. The only indication she had of his favourable sentiments toward her, was the offer his father made on his behalf for her hand in marriage. But that didn't mean anything, really. It was merely an advantageous marriage prospect.

That's all she was, actually. To anyone who would be remotely interested in her, Octavia was merely a pureblooded woman bred for the sole purpose of being a wife and a mother.

A trophy.

* * *

Dinner in the Great Hall was, as usual, a quiet affair for Octavia. As she normally did, Octavia sat at the end of the table alone, a few seats separating her from the closest students. Slouching over her plate, Octavia rested her chin on her palm and elbow on the table as she pushed food around her plate idly. Every few minutes or so, her hazel orbs would glance up at the staff table on the platform, focusing on _Professor_ Diggory. Sometimes, their eyes would meet, Octavia blushing as she looked away quickly. She was sure he was only glancing at her because of her frequent and inappropriate stares at him.

Her blush was increased by the incessant glowers of Draco Malfoy whom sat further down the table, right in the middle. He was flanked by her brother and Theodore Nott, as usual. And, as usual, Astoria and Pansy sat across from the boys. But only Draco looked her way as the students dug into their dinners, his eyes like molten lava and his jaw clenched tightly. Instantly, Octavia knew that she had upset him somehow. But, she just didn't know what she had done. Not like it mattered. Draco would punish her for her wrongdoings regardless.

Anxiety pooled in her tummy as she opted to stare at her plate, dreading her inevitable return to the Slytherin common room that night. For it was there that she would likely pay for causing him whatever offense she had performed.

Like she had done many times before, Octavia longed for the days before Hogwarts. Days when Draco Malfoy was kind to her in the shadows of their homes. Days when he would steal soft kisses from her in the Malfoy Manor gardens and offer her pretty flowers when she was sad. Yes, he was cruel whenever others were around back then. But now, when others _weren't_ around, he was at his cruellest.

Nearby snickers pulled Octavia from her thoughts, her eyes wide with fear as she glanced at her fellow Slytherins. Unexpectedly, however, they were not looking at her. Following their gazes, Octavia frowned as she spotted a floating plate piled with a mountain of mashed potatoes. The plate drifted in the air, making its way directly to the adjacent Gryffindor table. A selfish part of Octavia was grateful. She was grateful that it wasn't headed toward her, instead journeying to humiliate another.

Scolding herself for her selfish appreciation, Octavia watched as the plate increased in speed, soaring toward a girl at the end of the table. Hermione.

"Ninny!" Octavia shouted, standing from her seat abruptly, all eyes in the Great Hall focusing on her at her outburst.

But Octavia didn't register the attention that she had garnered. She didn't notice the scathing glower that Millicent was sending her way. Nor did she notice the pure murderous rage in Draco Malfoy's silvery eyes as his upper lip curled.

It didn't matter, anyway. Her shout for her friend's attention was futile. The plate dropped onto Ninny's head, drenching the girl in mashed potatoes from head-to-toe. The Slytherin table and a few Ravenclaws immediately erupted into raucous laughter as Hermione sat at the table, covered in the thick sludgy substance. But, Octavia wasn't laughing. She just didn't find it humorous in the slightest. Perhaps because she had been the victim of such pranks before and knew just how awful it was. Or maybe it was because she was friends with the victim.

Standing by her seat at the Slytherin table, Octavia shot a scathing glare at her brother who sniggered alongside his comrades. Their eyes met, and Blaise had the decency to look momentarily ashamed. But it didn't last. His expression of shame quickly gave way to a malicious grin before he winked at Octavia, baiting her to scold him for his actions. It was in that moment that Octavia knew that her twin brother was the culprit of prank. Some Head Boy he was.

Scrunching her face up in a look of pure contempt, Octavia flicked her curls over her shoulder before storming over to the Gryffindor table. Hermione waved her wand elegantly, remaining perfectly composed as most of the food disappeared from her body. The laughter died down as Octavia marched down the Great Hall between the rivalling house tables, most of the students watching her approach her friend. Octavia pretended not to notice the stares she was subject to. Particularly the intense stare of Draco Malfoy. Another action she was surely going to be punished for later.

Octavia didn't speak as she wormed her way between Hermione and Ginny Weasley, the latter of the two narrowing her eyes at her arrival. But Ninny smiled warmly as Octavia seated herself beside her, neither of them speaking a word. Octavia merely grabbed a napkin from the tabletop, setting to wiping off the residual mashed potato from Ninny's brown curls.

It took several minutes of shocked silence before the students in the Great Hall resumed their eating and conversations, forgetting all about the incidents that had just transpired. But Octavia knew that _some_ students wouldn't forget. In fact, they were watching her from the Slytherin table, the pure venom of their stares burning into her back. She ignored it. For now.

* * *

The anxiety was relentless. It coursed through her veins, nearly crippling her petite body. It was an odd sensation to Octavia. For she was now thoroughly accustomed to the sheer dread that consumed her, yet it was just as horrid as it was the first time it had assaulted her.

Resisting the urge to stay out in the castle all night like the coward she was, Octavia walked slowly through the dungeon corridors, journeying the torture chamber; the Slytherin common room. She had delayed her inevitable return to the snake pit for as long as she could. It was now _way_ past curfew, Octavia having opted to spend the majority of the evening in the Ravenclaw common room with Lovely Luna. But despite the late hour, Octavia knew that he would be awaiting her return.

Draco Malfoy would be sitting on the leather sofa in the Slytherin common room, perhaps entertaining a groupie or two whilst he waited. And he would be waiting. She had no doubt in her mind about that. Everyone in Slytherin house would be well aware of his intentions to torment her over her actions that day in the Great Hall. So, Octavia was hardly surprised when she whispered the password to the portrait, the painting swinging open to reveal a crowded common room. They were all eagerly awaiting her return, it seemed.

Inhaling deeply in an attempt to soothe the nerves that wracked her body, Octavia stepped hesitantly through the threshold, all eyes on her entrance. The silence that washed over the students was deafening to Octavia, her ears ringing as her heart pounded wretchedly in her chest.

As she had anticipated, Draco sat on the leather sofa, facing the entrance to the common room. He reclined leisurely, a tumbler of fire whiskey in his hand as their eyes met; fearful hazel orbs gazing into cold grey eyes. Blaise resided further into the dark room, sitting on a wooden desk, watching his sister with complete indifference. Everyone else, however, appeared to be on the edge of their seats at Octavia's return, awaiting eagerly for her punishments to begin.

The silence in the room remained as the portrait door screeched horridly, closing behind her with an audible click. Clenching her fists nervously, Octavia bit her bottom lip as she remained standing by the entrance, her body trembling lightly as Draco's fierce stare froze her in place. But, he didn't do anything. He didn't say anything. He just stared at her.

Hesitantly, Octavia cleared her throat meekly before stepping further into the dim room lit by torches and candles. He didn't move or speak. Perhaps he wasn't going to punish her? Perhaps he would do it tomorrow? She didn't know. And that was the worst part - not knowing. It served only to increase her horrendous distress.

Taking her chances, Octavia averted her eyes from Draco's intense gaze, moving toward the narrow descending staircase that led to the girls' dormitories. Every single pair of eyes in the room watched her go, the sound of her heels connecting with the stony ground echoing through the room eerily. Each step closer to the spiralling staircase brought her closer to her escape from the torment that she feared. Sparking a little hope inside of her.

Hope that he extinguished with one swift movement.

All of a sudden, Draco stood in front of her, blocking her path to the dormitories as he clenched his jaw and placed his hands in his pockets. The room was silent before he approached her. But now … now she could even hear her own ragged breaths. In fact, she was absolutely certain that every Slytherin student there could hear her heart beating wildly in her chest. She could.

"Enlighten me," Draco drawled, his casual stance only adding to her fear. "I find myself rather perplexed regarding your actions."

Octavia, chewing her bottom lip nervously, gazed fearfully into his icy eyes as goosebumps spread over her body at the sound of cool tone.

"It seems to me," Draco continued, every person in the room watching with bated breaths, "that you not only bring great dishonour to your family name by being a filthy squib. You seem to _enjoy_ disgracing sacred things. Such as your house."

"I …" Octavia frowned, shuffling her feet anxiously. "I didn't …"

"No?" Draco retorted, quirking his brow as the tension thickened in the room. "You disgrace everything sacred around you. You disgrace the blood that courses through your veins by being a squib."

Octavia blanched at the derogatory term, Draco taking one determined step toward her.

"You disgrace your family by being what you are," Draco continued, another step closer to her as she trembled visibly. "And you disgrace your house by associating with, not only Gryffindors, but a _mudblood_ one at that."

Octavia took a step back as he continued to approach her slowly, his tall and muscular form appearing larger than ever before.

"At times, I find myself wondering if you were put on this earth to dishonour your family and blood," Draco drawled, his icy eyes boring into her wide hazel orbs. "Or, is it by choice that you perform such atrocities?"

Her peripherals caught the slight movement in his pocket, Octavia swallowing audibly as he slipped out his wand. She knew that he didn't need a wand, aware that he was proficient in wandless magic. But he was employing it for an ominous effect. It was working.

"You are the most repulsive thing I have ever encountered," Draco spat, his upper lip curling as his cool composure cracked.

Her fear won in the internal battle within her, the urge to flee coming out triumphant.

Octavia scurried passed his looming body, dashing toward the descending staircase that would provide her with sanctuary. But she was not quick enough. She was never quick enough.

" _Vespasicus!_ "

A squeal escaped her swollen lips as she bolted down the staircase, knowing full well what was chasing her due to his jinx. Creatures that she had feared her entire life; a swarm of wasps and bees.

Now completely out of sight of the common room, Octavia allowed the tears to flee from her fearful eyes as she bolted down the staircase, the buzzing of the wasps and bees right behind her. Sobs and screeches escaped her lips as they attacked, stinging her aggressively as she sprinted to safety.

Octavia shrieked as she ran right into her dormitory door, bursting through it hurriedly before slamming it shut behind her. She flinched as the sound of the insects connecting with the closed door echoed around her, alerting her that the threat was gone. The threat of the wasps and bees, that is. For the threat of Draco Malfoy was far from gone.

Running to her bed in the empty dorm room, Octavia burst into a fit of tears as she threw herself on the mattress, quickly closing the drapes around her. In her experience, she found that the less that her dorm mates could see her, the less likely it was that they would be provoked to torment her.

Octavia cried wretchedly, hiccupping between sobs, as she pulled out a small vial from beneath her purple pillow. Wincing, she uncorked the vial and began to dab the substance on her mass amounts of stings and sores from her attack, paying particular attention to her neck.

Having been victim to that jinx before, Octavia knew that the physical evidence would be gone by morning due to the effects of the healing salve. The salve that she kept under her pillow for moments like this. Frequent moments when she found herself to be in the line of fire from Millicent or Draco.

Pangs of hurt assaulted her aching heart as curled up into a ball, crying wretchedly. It was only the third day of seventh year, and she was already terrified and tormented. She was correct in her initial assessment.

This would be the worst year to date.

* * *

Due to an incessant inability to sleep, Hermione whipped the sheets off her body and climbed out of the grand bed in her Head Dormitory. Glancing out of the long, regal window, her brown eyes observed the dark blue sky, stars dimly shining through the dense clouds. Whilst she could hardly tell the time of night by looking at the sky, she knew it was the wee hours of the morning. This was supported by the fact that she could see Professor Sprout waddling down the stone path in the grounds, headed to the greenhouse, sacks of various types of manure levitating behind her.

Hermione ran her slender fingers through her wild mane of brown curls before rubbing her hands over her tired face, her weary mind craving sleep. But sleep evaded her that night, like it did so many others. For once Hermione would fall into a deep slumber, her wretched dreams drenched in horror and anxiety would have her jolting awake in no time. She didn't always have that dream – or, more accurately; nightmare – but when she did, there was no fighting it. Unless she stocked up on Dreamless Sleeping Potions again.

It was an option. An option that she considered and selected at times. But the side effects of the potions affected her too greatly. She would spend the following day in a state of persistent lethargy, unable to maintain concentration on the simplest of tasks to an acceptable standard. So Hermione avoided employing the assistance of the potion whenever she could, and instead, endured the sleepless nights.

Tying her fluffy nightgown around her body firmly, Hermione made her way out of the bedroom and down into the shared common room. On her way, she glanced at the clock, discovering that it was 4.30am. So she was rather surprised to see Blaise Zabini, the Head Boy, occupying the common room upon her arrival.

Blaise stood at the small kitchenette, pouring boiling water from the kettle into a mug of, what appeared to be (given the strong, bitter aroma), black coffee. If Blaise noticed her entry into the common room, he didn't let it be known. He kept his back to her as he continued to prepare his beverage. Hermione hesitated at the bottom of the stairs that led to her bedroom, unsure of whether to return before he noticed her. Then again, this was her common room as much as it was his.

While Blaise had apparently made it his priority to stake his claim over the shared space by entertaining a few girls here and there, as well as his friends, Hermione was not prepared to relinquish her rights to the room.

So she held her head high and strolled over to the couch that faced the crackling fireplace – Blaise evidently having just lit it – and seated herself neatly on the sofa.

"White with one sugar, correct?" Blaise's aristocratic drawl sounded out, startling Hermione slightly.

Hermione turned, craning her neck to peek over the back of the sofa, her eyes resting on the back of Blaise's head. She didn't speak as he removed a second mug from the cupboard and set to filling it with the contents of his question; milk, coffee and one sugar. Just how she liked her coffee.

She didn't question how he would know this about her. He had undoubtedly witnessed her preparing her morning coffee since they began to share living quarters that year. But she did question his motives for making her a coffee. For, while she was best friends with his twin sister, Hermione and Blaise were hardly on amicable terms. They only really spoke when absolutely necessary, ignoring one another expertly at all other times.

"I will take your silence as confirmation," Blaise stated as he stirred the new mug of coffee.

"Um," Hermione hummed, watching as he picked up the mugs and made his way over to where she sat on the couch. "Yes, thank you."

"You are most welcome," Blaise drawled, his tone lacking anything other than complete boredom and disinterest.

Hermione clasped her fingers around the mug as he extended it to her, her suspicious eyes immediately observing the contents in the ceramic container. Blaise rolled his eyes as he noticed her assessment of the beverage, moving to seat himself on the nearby armchair.

"If I were going to poison you, Granger," Blaise said, "I would hardly slip it into your coffee. First of all, that would be much too obvious for my taste. Second of all, I would ensure that my attempts were untraceable."

Ignoring him, Hermione rested her gaze on the roaring fireplace, sipping at her hot coffee leisurely. It burned her tongue a little, but she didn't mind. It almost assisted in increasing her alertness, along with the caffeine itself.

"Why are you awake so early?" Hermione asked, only making conversation due to the awkward atmosphere that transpired in their silence.

"I have yet to go to bed," Blaise smirked wickedly.

Hermione frowned, catching the implication instantly, becoming quite irritated with the snake all over again.

"Yourself?" Blaise asked, before sipping his steaming black coffee.

Hermione only shrugged in response.

"Nightmares again, I presume." Blaise drawled, his dark eyes fixed on the muggle-born witch.

"What do you know about my dreams?" Hermione scoffed.

"That you have nightmares," Blaise retorted, enunciating his words as though speaking to a child.

"What makes you think that?" Hermione frowned, meeting his bored stare.

"Only what my dear sister has said," Blaise replied coolly.

Hermione thought for a moment, before recalling the one and only night that she had spent at Octavia's. Quite some time ago, now. But Octavia had awoken her in the middle of the night, requesting – quite rudely – that she 'shut the fuck up' and stop talking in her sleep. It appeared that Octavia had informed her brother of the restless night of attempted sleep that was prevented by Hermione's nightmare.

"Everybody has nightmares sometimes," Hermione shrugged, brushing the subject off casually.

"Indeed," Blaise clipped, his eyes darkening as he considered Hermione.

Taken aback by the increased intensity of Blaise's stare, Hermione frowned for a moment before clearing her throat and opting to gaze at the fire once more. Blaise appeared to do the same, Hermione noticing in her peripheral vision that his head turned away, only the profile of his face visible to her. His expression seemingly pensive and slightly troubled.

But before she could assess his expression, his cool demeanour slipped back into place as he drank the remainder of his coffee.

"Have you discovered the identity of the prankster?" Blaise asked, seemingly interested in continuing their lame attempts at conversing.

Hermione pursed her lips, recalling the previous afternoon in the Great Hall. While she knew the offender was definitely a Slytherin, she had yet to find out the actual person who had dunked mashed potatoes all over her during dinner. But she had an inkling that Blaise knew who the offender was.

Turning her suspicious gaze to the Head Boy, Hermione assessed his stoic expression intently. As though the answer to the question of the offender's identity was on his face.

And it was. She just didn't know that. Yet.

"I will." Hermione assured, her tone icy.

Blaise smirked as he rose from the armchair, stepping toward her slowly, one hand in his pocket, the other grasping his empty mug loosely. Hermione shrank back in the sofa only slightly as he approached, Blaise quirking his brow as he noticed the retreat.

"And what will you do?" Blaise asked, his tone teasing as he stood before her. "Dish out detentions? Dock house points?"

"Yes." Hermione retorted, raising her chin confidently.

Although she hardly felt too confident as his body towered over her small frame, feeling miniscule as she sat before him.

"How _just_ of you," Blaise smirked, staring down at the muggle-born with dark eyes. "If it were myself, the punishment would be much more severe."

"That's the difference between you and I," Hermione remarked, standing from the sofa, causing Blaise to take a step back. "That is what makes me a Gryffindor, and you a slimy snake."

Blaise grinned widely as she shoved passed him and marched toward the staircase that led to her bedroom. Away from him.

His dark eyes watched her huffy retreat, relishing in her straightened back and air of importance. Basking in her indignation. How glorious she was when riled up. Simply magnificent.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione sat neatly on the sofa facing the fireplace, her battered copy of _Hogwarts A History_ open in her lap as she read. Her brown curls fell down the side of her face, her chocolate eyes scanning over the magnificent words of Bathilda Bagshot.

Thankfully, given the wee hours of that Saturday morning, Hermione could read in peace in the common area of the Head dormitories. She assumed Blaise, the Head Boy, would be currently slumbering in his bed to cure his hangover. Hermione was aware that the Slytherin house hosted a party the night before in their common rooms, inviting only the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. They never invited the Gryffindors. Hardly surprising.

Quickly checking the time displayed on the nearby grandfather clock, Hermione sighed, realising that she only had another thirty minutes of reading before she would join her friends in the Great Hall for breakfast. Although she doubted that Octavia would make it to breakfast at the agreed upon time, for O was far too lazy to awake at sunrise.

The door to the Head Boy's bedroom opened with a loud groan, Hermione scowling instantly. Was it too much to ask for a little privacy in their communal area? For he seemed to predominantly occupy the common room that they shared, displaying no respect for his fellow Head whatsoever. Their entire first week back at Hogwarts, Hermione would return to the Head dormitories to find Blaise entertaining a groupie on the adjacent sofa. Or, on two occasions, the space would be occupied by a few of his prejudicial comrades.

To add to her vexation, Hermione was now aware that it was the Italian pureblood whom apparently pranked her two days ago in the Great Hall, dousing her in thick mashed potatoes. According to Octavia, that is. But Hermione believed her friend when she voiced her suspicions. Octavia wouldn't fib about her brother. In fact, she appeared to be quite disappointed in her brother's actions. As was Hermione.

Particularly due to his inquisitive nature the morning after the incident in the Great Hall. Asking her if she knew the identity of the culprit. Mocking her. Of course, she did not know that he was actually mocking her at the time. Not for the reasons she was now aware of.

Suddenly, Hermione felt the urge to whack his handsome face with her heavy book.

"Granger," Blaise acknowledged coldly, stepping down the limestone steps from his bedroom door.

Rudely, Hermione chose to ignore him, not responding in the slightest. She didn't even glance up from her book as he approached the sitting area, taking his place at one of the plush armchairs.

Hermione could feel his dark eyes glancing at her occasionally as he reclined in the chair, both of them remaining in complete and utter silence. A silence so tense that it was almost deafening.

"Are you attending Hogsmeade today?" Blaise asked, his tone indifferent.

Hermione pursed her lips, slamming her book shut loudly as she met his dark eyes. Blaise quirked his brow as her eyes narrowed sternly, the atmosphere growing rapidly hostile.

His question really irked her. Perhaps more than it should have.

But they both knew that Heads were obligated to attend the weekly Hogsmeade trips in order to perform their duties amongst the fellow students. As were the Prefects at Hogwarts. So why he asked her that question, she did not know. But she suspected that he was merely attempting to break the uncomfortable silence. Something that she would not grant him, for it was his fault that the silence existed in the first place.

It was _him_ that dunked the creamy substance all over her in the Great Hall, humiliating her in front of the entire student body, as well as the professors. Not only that, Hermione utterly despised him most days. For he watched his sister be the victim of torment from his closest 'friend' and did absolutely nothing to stop it. All because of 'pureblood politics', according to O.

Hermione just couldn't believe that she had once carried a flame for the boy, thinking him decent and charming. How wrong she had been.

Blaise clenched his jaw tightly as he watched her stuff the enormous book into her schoolbag before standing and slinging it over her shoulder. All the while, her scathing eyes remained focused on him. His dark eyes narrowed at the mudblood as she stormed out of the common room, bursting through the portrait door dramatically. An action that reminded him of his sister somewhat.

As Hermione exited the Head common room, Draco Malfoy appeared, slithering through the ajar doorway. The blonde pureblood waltzed into the room casually, Blaise's narrowed eyes fixed on the doorway that Granger had just disappeared through.

"Lover's spat?" Draco drawled, his silvery eyes twinkling with malice.

Blaise scoffed audibly, choosing to not directly address his friend's provocative question. They both knew that Blaise and Granger were hardly lovers. But the implications lingered in the air between them. Implications that were danced around at times, but not directly addressed.

"If I were a betting man," Draco drawled, reclining against the wall, "I would wager that your sister snitched on you."

"If I were a blood traitor," Blaise countered, rising from the armchair, "perhaps I would care."

"Then it is a good thing that you are no blood traitor," Draco quipped, eyeing his friend intently.

Draco smirked, his silver eyes fixed on Blaise's stoic expression as he assessed him.

Blaise clenched his jaw before nodding once, stepping toward a mischievous looking Draco. Blaise didn't take the bait. He never did.

The consequences would be catastrophic.

* * *

To Hermione's surprise, Octavia was already seated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall upon her arrival. It wasn't unusual for students of other houses to sit wherever they liked over the weekends; the atmosphere was a lot more casual. What _was_ unusual was that O sat with Harry and Ron, all three of them digging into the grand food supply. Approaching the trio at the table, Hermione barely prevented the look of bewilderment that threatened to contort her features.

"Hey, Ninny." Octavia sang before sipping at her mug of coffee.

"Hey," Hermione smiled weakly, seating herself beside Harry as she faced O. "What are you guys doing up already?"

"Quidditch try-outs," Ron explained through a mouthful of croissants.

"Ah," Hermione nodded, flicking her gaze to Octavia. "And you?"

"Oh," Octavia shrugged, scooping a heap of plump strawberries onto her plate. "I … uh …"

"What did he do?" Hermione sighed, her brows furrowing in concern.

"Just a wasp jinx," Octavia said, waving her hand dismissively. "No big deal."

"Who?" Harry interjected, holding a goblet of pumpkin juice in his hand. "Who hexed you?"

"Malfoy," Hermione answered, pursing her lips visibly.

"Why this time?" Ron asked, stuffing copious amounts of scrambled eggs into his open trap.

"Uh," Octavia frowned at the red-head beside her, thoroughly disgusted by his eating habits. "He … I dunno. He said it was because I … He never really said why. But it's 'cause I tried to warn Ninny about the mashed potatoes, I think."

Harry hummed, the foursome looking up as two more people entered the Great Hall. Draco and Blaise. The former of the two narrowed his grey eyes in Octavia's direction, his upper lip curling at her decision to sit with the Gryffindors that day. Blaise didn't even glance at them.

Octavia watched as the two Slytherins waltzed through the Great Hall, seating themselves at the grand table, Draco facing Octavia. She averted her eyes, adding more strawberries to the dwindling supply on her plate, making sure to douse them with mass amounts of rich cream.

"So you guys aren't coming to Hogsmeade then?" Octavia asked, dipping a particularly juicy strawberry in the cream. "Since you have Quidditch practice, and all."

"Nah, we won't make it." Ron shook his head, Hermione frowning slightly.

She just couldn't understand the sudden cordial atmosphere between Octavia and the two boys. Harry and Ron had usually made a point of ignoring the girl whenever she spoke, pretty much pretending that she just didn't exist. Now, they were asking her questions and speaking directly to her. It didn't sit right with Hermione. She would need to get to the bottom of the boys' sudden change in attitude.

"We might make it down later though." Harry said. "Depends on how busy try-outs are and how many injuries happen."

Octavia nodded, understanding the dangers of the sport that she was not particularly fond of. In all honesty, Quidditch had always bored her to her core. When she was younger, her mother had refused for her to participate in the sport, claiming that it was unladylike. But Octavia was now aware that her mother had evidently suspected her wizard-born status when she was a child. For if Octavia would have attempted to ride a broom as a wizard-born, the results would have been disastrous.

"Well, we'll be in the Three Broomsticks for lunch." Hermione said, Octavia nodding in agreeance.

"Hello," Luna's lovely voice sang as she approached the foursome at the Gryffindor table. "That is a lovely dress, O."

Octavia beamed proudly, running her hands over her lilac dress as Luna sat beside her.

"Thanks," Octavia smiled, adjusting the off-the-shoulder straps.

"Made from Nymph hair?" Luna asked, her blue sparkly eyes scanning the dress approvingly.

"Uh huh," Octavia nodded, straightening out the hem of the dress that brushed over her upper-thigh.

Of course the dress hadn't originally been delivered that short, but Octavia had quickly paid a Ravenclaw to adjust the hem with magic. What mother didn't know wouldn't hurt her, she mused with a devious smirk. Besides, it wasn't even _that_ short compared to her adjusted school skirt.

That was one of the upsides of being at Hogwarts; her mother couldn't control how she dressed.

"He's staring at you," Luna whispered, leaning closer to Octavia.

Octavia immediately flicked her eyes to the adjacent Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy gazing intently at her. But not her face this time. Instead, his grey eyes lingered over her bare shoulders before trailing slowly up her neck, stopping at some loose curls that had escaped her bun. A frown graced her pretty face as his eyes drank in the skin of her neck, almost hungrily. No. That was a silly observation.

"Not him," Luna laughed, the sound like music to Octavia's ears. "Cedric."

Frowning, Octavia turned to face the staff table, a fierce blush spreading over her face as she met the eyes of Cedric – no! – _Professor_ Diggory. The teacher in question smiled fleetingly before averting his eyes back to his plate, his cheeks tinged with a light shade of pink. Octavia mirrored his light blush, smiling weakly as she continued to gaze at him.

"O." Hermione hissed, leaning over the table to scold her friend. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" Octavia asked, blinking stupidly at her friend.

"He's a teacher now," Hermione reprimanded. "It's inappropriate."

"He was the one that was staring at me," Octavia mumbled, slouching over her plate in defeat.

Neither of the girls noticed the furious gaze of Draco Malfoy, his stormy grey eyes fixed on Octavia's dejected, yet rosy face.

"So what time are we heading to Hogsmeade?" Octavia asked, pushing strawberries around her plate absentmindedly.

"In an hour," Hermione answered. "I have to walk down with your brother."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, her sympathetic gaze fixing on Ninny. "Good luck with that."

Hermione hummed, her lips thinning as an expression of bitterness graced her pretty face.

"What's up?" Octavia asked, eyeing her friend curiously.

"Nothing," Hermione shook her head. "He tried to speak to me this morning, is all."

"What did he say?" Luna asked dreamily.

"Nothing much," Hermione shrugged. "Just asked if I was attending Hogsmeade today. But he knows that I am. We both have to as Head Boy and Girl."

Octavia frowned, her eyes flicking to her brother at the adjacent table. Ignoring the intense stare that she was currently receiving from Draco, her hazel orbs fixed on her brother's straight back, a small smirk playing on her lips. He was far too obvious at times. So obvious, in fact, it was a wonder that no one else had figured it out.

At times, Octavia could have sworn that she was the only person in that school with a speck of intelligence. And that was saying something, considering she definitely struggled with her lack of intellect. A disappointing fact that Octavia was very well aware of.

"It must be the wrackspurts," Luna sang, nodding to herself. "I think there's an outbreak in the school."

And just like that, Octavia was yanked from her self-pitying thoughts and found herself stifling a giggle instead.

* * *

Luna and Octavia walked hand-in-hand through the main street of Hogsmeade, both of them residing in a comfortable silence as they drank in the atmosphere. The sun shone brightly above them in the cloudless sky, the cobblestone streets bustling with joyous students and villagers. The streets were lined with lopsided and characteristic shops and cottages, enchanted candles floating around despite the fact that it was daylight. It didn't bother Octavia, though. She found that candles only served to add to the charm of the village.

The girls ventured into Honeydukes where they had agreed to meet Ninny, the warmth of the shop washing over them the moment that they entered. Octavia relished in the heat as well as the aroma of various sweets that invaded her senses. Spotting Hermione further into the crowded shop, Luna and Octavia immediately fell into step toward the curly-haired brunette.

"What's that?" Octavia asked, eyeing the box of sweets that Hermione was observing.

"Giggling gum," Hermione answered, taking a piece from the box and handing it to Octavia. "Try one."

"You try it," Octavia frowned, turning up her nose at the beige piece of gum.

Ninny set to undoing the invisible wrappings on the gum before suddenly stuffing into Octavia's mouth. Octavia gasped, swatting Hermione's hand away as she and Luna burst into laughter. But Octavia didn't spit out the gum, finding that it tasted of honey and was quite delicious. Instead, she began to chew it hesitantly, a slight scowl gracing her exceptionally pretty face at Ninny's actions. Draco Malfoy watched from the stack of toffees further in the shop discreetly, going unnoticed by the wizard-born.

Suddenly, Octavia burst into a fit of giggles, so intense that she doubled over from the pain in her tummy. The giggles consumed her so entirely that she struggled to breathe, her face turning pink slightly as tears of laughter welled up in her eyes. The pleasant sound of her giggles rang through the shop delightfully, Draco watching with complete enthrallment, his lips tugging into a smile at the nostalgic sound. But he quickly composed himself, continuing to watch the wizard-born girl laugh hysterically with an expression of complete indifference. Although Theodore, standing beside him, had noticed the smile that fleetingly graced Draco's lips.

Hermione grinned widely as Octavia's giggles subsided, Luna paying no interest and instead opted to inspect a box of Acid Pops.

"You're such an ass," Octavia scowled, her narrowed hazel orbs fixed on a beaming Hermione.

Ninny only shrugged in response, turning her attention back to the shelves of sweets.

"I think we should ban them from school," Hermione mused aloud, her important tone in place.

Rolling her eyes, Octavia moved passed her friends, headed straight toward the shelf that stocked her favourite sweets; chocolate wands. Unfortunately, her least favourite thing in the world was already standing by the shelf, twirling a chocolate wand in his hand as he watched her approach.

Draco's face remained stoic and impassive as she neared the shelf, but his hand outstretched toward her, the chocolate wand gripped loosely in his slender fingers.

"Dark chocolate with a peppermint centre," Draco drawled, his cold eyes boring into her confused hazel orbs.

Octavia eyed her favourite flavour of chocolate wand suspiciously, noting that there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary with the sweet.

"Uh," Octavia frowned, tentatively taking the sweet from his hand. "Thanks …"

Draco merely continued to stare at her for a moment before he took a determined step toward her, her body tensing instantly. His intense silvery eyes penetrated her hazel orbs as she clutched the chocolate wand against her chest, her body stiff at his nearing proximity.

"Perhaps you should purchase a whole box," Draco said icily. "Considering that it's the only type of wand that is of any use to you."

Scowling, Octavia tossed the chocolate wand back into the box before turning and storming off in a huff. She didn't even have the urge to cry at his insult, finding that she was only filled with anger and injustice.

A welcome change in feelings for Octavia. She much preferred anger to incredible heartache and fear.

The downside, however, was that she was permanently turned off from chocolate wands.

* * *

Octavia stepped around the house-elf that swept the floor with an old and chipped firebolt, pushing her way through the crowds of students toward the bar. Whilst Octavia relished in the boisterous and positive atmosphere of the crowded establishment, she absolutely loathed being _in_ the crowd. It was a nightmare. But, on Saturdays, the Three Broomsticks was always overcrowded with the mixture of villagers and Hogwarts students. Even a few professors from the school sat around the dim pub, enjoying their weekends.

Octavia finally made it to the bar, leaning over the tabletop as she waited for Madame Rosmertta to attend to her. Luna and Ninny had ventured off to find a table big enough, as Harry and Ron were due to arrive at any moment for lunch. Drumming her fingers impatiently on the sticky bar, Octavia heaved a heavy sigh, watching as Madame Rosmertta served a few professors further down. But she was next in line, thankfully.

Wincing, Octavia felt fingertips graze over her bare shoulder lightly. But before she could determine whether it was an accident or not, Draco Malfoy barged into her, causing her to tumble into the bar. Scowling, Octavia met his cold eyes as he moved to stand beside her, evidently taking her spot as next-in-line. She didn't argue though. It would only provoke him.

Turning to face her, Draco placed his forearm on the bar, leaning casually as his cold eyes scanned her lilac dress briefly.

"A new dress?" Draco asked, his tone bored.

Octavia frowned at him, making a point of ignoring his question as she turned to face the approaching bar maid. They hadn't spoken since he sent a mass of wasps and bees to attack her, excluding their earlier encounter in Honeydukes of course. She wished to keep up the silence between them. For in the three days that they hadn't spoken, nobody in Slytherin even acknowledged that she existed, let alone tormented her. It was better for her when they didn't speak.

"What can I get for ya?" Madame Rosmertta asked Octavia.

"I believe I was first," Draco drawled, his tone laced with danger.

"Ah," the bar maid nodded, not believing him in the slightest. But she didn't argue. No one ever argued with Draco Malfoy. "What will it be then?"

"Three butterbeers," Draco ordered, tossing a few sickles on the bar.

More sickles than required, causing Rosmertta to smile at the generous tip. Octavia just rolled her eyes as Rosmertta busied off to retrieve his drinks.

"Did your mother send you the dress?" Draco asked, turning his attention back to Octavia.

She ignored him, raising her chin slightly as she kept her gaze on the busy bar maid.

"I doubt that she would have sent it to you in its current condition," Draco drawled, his eyes scanning her attire coolly.

Frowning, Octavia's hand pulled at the hem of her lilac dress, knowing full well that he was referring to the indecent length. A lady never showed more than a centimetre of her thighs, as her mother always said. And this dress, after a little altering, showed the majority of her milky thighs, only just covering her bum.

"What is the material?" Draco asked coolly, his index finger grazing lightly against her off-the-shoulder strap.

Octavia smacked his hand away as she glared at him, finding his actions entirely unseemly.

"Nymph hair?" Draco asked, apparently unphased by her little act of foolishness.

"Yes." Octavia clipped, eyeing him suspiciously as he nodded.

"Very delicate material," Draco drawled, his cold grey eyes meeting her hazel orbs. "It spoils easily, I believe."

Octavia bit her lip, sensing the implications in his words. She just hoped that she was wrong and he wouldn't make any move to stain her dress. For Nymph hair permanently absorbed any liquid substance, making it a very fragile and expensive material.

"Quite fragile," Draco said, his eyes boring into hers. "It suits you."

Octavia frowned at him as Madame Rosmertta returned with his drinks, placing them on the bar with a tray.

"There ya go."

Draco didn't respond. He merely kept his eyes on Octavia's as he removed the tray from the bar, his curious stare freezing her in place.

"And for you dear?" Madame Rosmertta asked, leaning over the bar casually.

"Uh," Octavia frowned, pulling herself from Draco's gaze. "I'll have … uh … five butterbeers and some menus, thanks."

" _Eight_ butterbeers," Draco corrected, Octavia frowning at him in confusion.

Rosmertta nodded once, turning and walking off to pour the drinks, leaving Octavia to gaze at a stoic Draco curiously.

"I only need five drinks," Octavia said, her confusion evident in her hazel eyes.

"I need three." Draco smirked, holding the tray in his hands.

"But you … you have three already." Octavia said, tilting her head as she observed him.

"I spilled them." Draco drawled coolly.

Octavia glanced at the butterbeers that were entirely unspilled. And then she realised. But it was too late.

Octavia gasped as he flipped the tray, the entire contents of the three glasses drenching her lilac dress completely. She stood frozen in place, her hands raised in the air as she gaped down at her now-canary yellow dress.

Her bottom lip trembled at the sight of her ruined dress, her eyes burning with hot tears as her face scrunched up. Draco merely smirked cruelly as he snatched the new tray of butterbeers from the bar, taking a determined step toward her.

"My apologies," Draco whispered, his tone cruel. "Accidents happen."

Wiping her tears from her face, Octavia sniffed loudly as she placed the money on the bar, Madame Rosmertta taking it with a sympathetic smile. Octavia ignored the reassuring gesture, taking the tray of her own butterbeers and making her way through the busy establishment to find her friends. Leaving a stoic Draco by the war, his grey eyes watching her scurry away and disappear into the crowd.

Quickly spotting her friends in the far dim corner of the pub, Octavia tottered over to them hurriedly, hoping to avoid another disastrous encounter with Draco. An endeavour she was successful in, thankfully.

However, as she turned the corner passed the decayed pillars that almost shielded her friends from her, Octavia stopped dead in her tracks as she heard what they were discussing; her. Moving slightly to the side, Octavia hid behind the pillars, blocking her body from their vision as she eavesdropped expertly, the tray gripped tightly in her hands.

"I'm not complaining," Hermione spoke quietly, seemingly addressing the boys, Harry and Ron. "I just think that it's odd, that's all."

"You've been pestering us for years to be nice to Octavia," Harry scoffed. "And now that we are, you are suspicious."

"It just doesn't make sense," Hermione hissed, eyeing them both sternly. "If you're up to something –"

"We're not up to anything, 'Mione," Ron interrupted, his tone impatient.

"Then why the sudden change of heart?" Hermione asked, raising her brow expectantly.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged lamely, leaning back in the wooden chair.

"She stood up for you," Harry said. "In the Great Hall, she tried to warn you."

"She's stood up for me before," Hermione retorted, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Not any time that I remember," Harry shrugged.

"I don't exactly _like_ the girl," Ron sighed. "But … well, she stuck up for you, like Harry said. I guess we just have a bit more respect for O now."

"And she took a hex just for trying to warn you about the prank," Harry added.

"You hated her a few days ago," Hermione frowned, her suspicions still evident in her brown eyes.

"We never hated her," Harry laughed. "Just … well, it's her family, isn't it?"

"She's not like them," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"We know that," Ron snapped, his patience wearing thin. "But her family are what they are. It's people like the Zabinis that disgrace the pureblood name."

"She doesn't believe in that," Hermione retorted. "She doesn't think her blood is any better than mine."

"We know that," Harry sighed. "But her parents fought on _his_ side, didn't they? Her parents helped _him_ kill innocent people, like my parents."

"She doesn't know that," Hermione sighed, her voice hushed slightly. "I don't think she knows what her parents were. She doesn't know much about the Dark Lord. She pretends to, I think, but she doesn't know enough."

"How can she not know that her parents were Death Eaters?" Ron scoffed indelicately.

"They don't want her to know," Hermione shrugged. "I don't think it's talked about much."

"She's stupid, but she's not _that_ stupid." Ron laughed. "She can't not know that about her parents."

Instantly, Octavia felt as though a knife had gutted her, her heart plummeting to her stomach. Everything that was said caused a heaviness to appear inside of her, twinges of hurt panging dreadfully at her heart. Stupid? Yes, she knew that struggled with her intellect. Or lack, thereof. But it was cruel and mean for someone to comment on that. It was rude and just plain nasty.

Octavia pursed her lips as she stepped out from behind the pillar, deciding that she had heard enough. While she was hurt at the comments about her 'stupidity', the slander of her parents completely boiled her blood, filling her with total rage. It was an outrage for Ron to suggest such things, and her anger only increased at Hermione going along with the lie. Her parents were not and would never be Death Eaters.

Although, she really didn't know much about the Death Eaters. What she _did_ know was that they were followers of the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord was an old friend of her parents, whom was now deceased. And she knew that the Dark Lord and Harry's parents had fought. She believed that it was actually the cause of his death, and Harry's parents' deaths too. But none of that had anything to do with her parents.

Not speaking about what she overheard, Octavia placed the tray of butterbeers on the table, the others greeting her at her arrival. She merely nodded in response, seating herself beside Luna quietly. Luna's sparkly blue eyes observed her curiously, Octavia realising suddenly that Luna was aware of her little eavesdropping exploit. But Luna didn't breathe a word of it thankfully.

The last thing Octavia wanted in that moment was for another conflict to arise. She already had two less than pleasant encounters with Draco that day, and she hardly needed to get into a fight with her only friends. Particularly when Harry and Ron were just starting to warm up to her.

However, the rage still coursed through her veins wildly. If there was something that Octavia absolutely loathed, it was others insulting her loved ones. And her parents were the top-most loved ones in her life.

Two people whom she cared about deeply. Two people who stood by her, despite others in their shoes potentially exiling her for her lack of magical abilities. She loved her parents and she knew that the accusations were lies. For her parents were wonderful.

She had no doubt about it.


	7. Chapter 7

Having returned to the castle early, Octavia sat with her friends at the Gryffindor table for the dinner feast. Their premature return from Hogsmeade was predominately due to Octavia's sour mood, but thankfully the boys grew tired – probably a food coma of sorts – after having lunch at the Three Broomsticks. So she didn't feel like the perpetrator of their ruined fun, due to the moodiness that quickly overcame Harry and Ron following their gluttonous lunch.

In saying that, Octavia's mood was certainly still sour. She couldn't rid herself of the thoughts of what her 'friends' had said about her parents. Therefore, Octavia sat in between Ninny and Lovely Luna, drenched in silence as she pushed the food around her plate solemnly.

Far too enthralled with her own thoughts, Octavia didn't even notice the stare that Draco Malfoy had her subject to from the Slytherin table. Not that noticing it would help her at all. All it would do is add to her evident dismay, for it meant that he was brewing up her next punishment. Her punishment for just being a wizard-born. Hardly fair in her books, but her opinion had no value to the likes of Draco Malfoy. It was _his_ opinion that mattered.

And in Draco's opinion, Octavia was the lowest of the low. She was even more worthless than a muggle in his eyes. For she was blessed with the purest of blood, only to dishonour it by having no magical abilities. Something that was completely out of her control. But again, it did not matter. He hated her for what she was, whether she could do something about it or not.

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement, despite the small amount of students that occupied the grand room. Even most of the professors were absent from the staff table on the podium. Presumably, the professors were currently in Hogsmeade, as were the majority of the student body.

"O," Harry said, interrupting her chaotic thoughts. "Wanna play?"

Octavia glanced at the game he moved around the table, placing it directly between them as he made to reset it. The game of Hangman that he had purchased last year. The game he had played in front of her many times, but never offered her to join.

Pushing down the resentment she currently harboured for the boy, Octavia merely nodded in response, garnering a smile from Harry. A smile that she did not return, due to the remaining bitterness of his earlier accusations about her parents.

"I'll go first," Harry declared, scribbling down the word of his choice on the enchanted parchment.

The word immediately disappeared, the faceless wooden man on the game shimmying the noose around his neck. She would have seven guesses, and with each incorrect guess the man would step closer to the end of the plank. If she lost, the wooden man would jump off the edge and hang himself. She didn't really like that. It always felt a little too violent for her taste. But she played anyway.

"Don't worry," Harry smiled. "I didn't choose a word you wouldn't know."

Octavia almost scowled at the perceived insult, before realising that he merely meant that he didn't select a word that was a spell or something. Given the fact that she couldn't perform magic, Octavia's knowledge of spells was limited at best.

Nodding, Octavia eyed the hangman intently, grateful for the reprieve from her previous thoughts. She had watched Harry and Ron play this game countless times, and knew that it was best to begin with vowels.

"O," Octavia said, starting with the letter that also performed as her nick-name.

The hangman took one hesitant step down the plank, alerting Octavia of her incorrect guess.

Her mind churned as she attempted to decipher her knowledge of Harry, determining the word that he was most likely to choose.

"Q," Octavia said, Harry thinning his lips nervously as the letter appeared once on the wooden slab.

Smirking wickedly, Octavia was absolutely certain that she had the answer. And, if she was correct, she would win the game.

Discreetly, Octavia leaned over the table and whispered quietly in the hangman's ear.

The hangman clapped before he removed his noose, jumping up and down for joy at not being killed for the hundredth time.

Harry scowled slightly, quickly packing up the game as the word magically carved themselves onto the wooden panel.

"What was the word?" Luna asked dreamily.

"Quidditch," Octavia beamed proudly.

"You guys coming to the Gryffindor party tonight?" Ron asked, his voice muffled by the cauldron cakes stuffed into his mouth.

"Nah," Octavia shook her head, filling her goblet with strawberry juice. "I'm not really in the mood."

Harry nodded, believing the source of Octavia's solemness to be her interactions with Draco Malfoy that day. He was partly correct in his beliefs.

"You can't let him get to you, O." Ninny said.

"It's not just him," Octavia sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "I got a letter from dad, too."

"This morning?" Ninny asked, the boys entering into a hushed conversation about Quidditch.

"No, it was on my bed when I went back to the dorms to change," Octavia scowled. "Blaise must have gotten the letter this morning and put it there."

"How would he put it in your room?" Ninny asked curiously. "He's a boy. Boys can't get into the girls' dormitories."

"Well," Octavia smiled. "That rule doesn't matter when you're a Slytherin. The boys go wherever they want."

"Why would being a Slytherin matter?" Ninny asked, her annoyance evident in her crisp tone.

"They know how to get around the rules," Octavia shrugged, losing interest in the conversation.

"What did your dad say?" Luna asked.

"Not much," Octavia said, sipping at her strawberry juice. "Just that I'm not doing any extracurricular activities according to the report he got from Snape."

"Ah," Ninny nodded.

"He isn't pleased about it," Octavia continued. "Kept saying that Blaise does all this extra stuff and has top grades too."

"What else does Blaise do?" Luna asked.

"He's Head Boy, for one," Octavia murmured bitterly.

"He runs the Slytherin Duelling Club too." Hermione added, Octavia's eyes widening in response.

But of course Hermione knew that about him, O thought with a smirk.

"What club are you going to join?" Luna asked, oblivious to Hermione's sudden blush as Octavia raised her eyebrows at her.

"I dunno," Octavia shrugged, turning her attention back to the predicament at hand. "There's not many I _can_ join, 'cause I can't do magic."

"You could always start your own," Luna suggested.

Octavia bit her lip as she considered Luna's suggestion, her mind whirling as she thought through all the clubs at Hogwarts. Instantly she realised that there weren't any clubs formed to care for or learn about magical creatures. She would speak to Professor Hagrid about that. Surely others would be interested in participating in a club about magical creatures. And her father would be pleased if she were to start her own club, as opposed to just joining one that's already been formed.

"What about the Potions Club?" Harry suggested, returning his attention to the conversation.

"Uh," Octavia smiled. "No thanks. I don't wanna be in Snape's company any more than I have to be."

"Because you're in love with him?" Ron teased, grinning widely at the old rumour of Octavia's feelings toward the potions master.

"Definitely," Octavia laughed.

"Slughorn runs the Potions Club," Harry stated, sipping at his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"What?" Octavia frowned. "He's the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, so why would he run the Potions Club?"

"He's a potions master too," Hermione explained. "But he took the Dark Arts position as it was the only spot available."

"And the Duelling Club is on at the same time, and Snape supervises that." Harry added.

"Oh," Octavia nodded, considering the prospect of joining the potions club.

Now that she knew Professor Snape didn't run the club, it was looking a little more desirable than before. She hadn't been a student of Slughorn's before, but he didn't seem too bad really. Joining the club would appease her father as well as potentially increase her potions skills. Overall, it had the potential to strengthen her weak grades in the subject.

"Does Professor Diggory run any clubs?" Octavia asked grinning wickedly as Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"He's a teacher, O. That's inappropriate." Hermione scolded.

Luna smiled as Octavia winked, both of them glancing at the staff table to see that Cedric was already watching O. Professor Diggory blinked out of his daze before averting his eyes, turning his attention back to Slughorn whom was babbling on enthusiastically.

Hermione sighed as she shook her head in disapproval, not even bothering to scold Octavia again. It appeared to make no difference whatsoever. She just hoped that Octavia didn't cross a line with the Professor.

"Are you going to the Gryffindor party?" Luna asked Hermione, her voice signing like wind-chimes.

"Actually, I was thinking that we could just go to the Heads' common room tonight," Hermione answered.

"Ooh, a girl's night?" Octavia asked excitedly.

"Yes," Hermione smiled.

"What about Blaise?" Luna asked.

"He'll be at the Slytherin party," Octavia said, waving her hand dismissively. "He'll probably spend the night in some girl's dorm."

Hermione clenched her jaw slightly, before regaining her indifferent expression but not before Octavia noticed. Whilst Octavia felt like a little mastermind at being the only person to notice the concealed sentiments that Hermione and Blaise felt for one another, she also held a great amount of pity for Hermione. Blaise was not one to fall for, Octavia knew. He was an asshole, really. And nothing could ever come from their feelings for one another, given the fact that he was contracted to marry Pansy Parkinson at the end of the school year. So Hermione's emotions, no matter how concealed, were futile.

A sad thought, Octavia mused. But it hardly mattered, anyway. Neither her brother nor Hermione would address and acknowledge their feelings for one another. They would probably continue to fight their affections until they snuffed out completely.

For it could not be. Hermione was not a pureblood. There was no chance of them uniting. It was for the best that they ignored their feelings for one another.

Definitely a sad thought.

* * *

After filling his tumbler of fire whiskey, Blaise seated himself beside Theo on the sofa in the bustling Slytherin common room. The party-goers were full of energy that night, the new recruits on the Slytherin Quidditch Team hitting the drinks extra hard. In fact, Blaise's sight was already blurring due to the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed over the past few hours at the party. Much like his two comrades, Draco and Theo.

Draco reclined in the adjacent armchair, a sixth year blonde girl straddling him as she discreetly dry humped him every so often and nibbled on his earlobe. But Draco appeared to be rather disinterested, craning his neck slightly to drink from his tumbler of putrid amber liquid. In fact, he looked rather unaware of the Ravenclaw girl who straddled him, her hands roaming slowly over his body.

Theo waved his hand dismissively as Daphne Greengrass approached, the glint in her eyes advising him of what she was after. But he wasn't in the mood to entertain the bint, choosing to hang out with his friends instead. Although he did notice that Draco repeatedly glanced at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Theo knowing full well what consumed Draco's thoughts. The wizard-born Octavia whom had yet to arrive at the party.

However, it was hardly unusual that Octavia was not in attendance. She rarely joined in the frequent festivities in the Slytherin common room. Likely, it was due to her being the prime target of an intoxicated Draco and Millicent. Although Draco, that evening, was hardly looking his malicious self. In fact, he appeared to be rather forlorn in that moment as he gazed almost longingly at the portrait entrance.

Theo almost rolled his eyes at his blonde friend, finding him to be rather immature at times. It was obvious to him, and Blaise, what Draco's feelings toward Octavia were. Yet Draco denied his affections for the girl, manifesting them into hatred due to her lack of magical abilities. It was sad, really. Draco was only hurting himself in his treatment of Octavia. Well, it was hurting Octavia too. But in the long-run, Draco would come out the loser.

He would watch as she married another, and be able to do absolutely nothing about it. He would spend the rest of his life watching her at pureblood functions, always replaying his treatment of her in his head. Loving someone who despised him. A punishment that awaited him. A punishment that existed in that moment, but Draco did not see it. For he was blinded by hate. Hate that was false and would dissolve eventually.

Leaving Draco hollow and broken.

The Ravenclaw girl moved her hands to begin unbuttoning Draco's trousers, but he stopped her.

"Fuck off," Draco murmured, shoving the girl from his lap lazily.

The Ravenclaw girl scowled as she stormed away in a huff, but Draco didn't care. His eyes remained on the portrait door.

Blaise threw back the remainder of his drink before sighing heavily, the trio sitting in silence as the party raged on around them. But the three of them hardly participated in the joyous atmosphere, their thoughts placed elsewhere. All on girls who were not in attendance at the party.

Evidently drunk, Draco swirled his tumbler clumsily before tossing back the fire whiskey, his hooded grey eyes fixed on the portrait door.

"This party is shit," Theo murmured, snatching a bottle of fire whiskey from the coffee table.

"Anything better on?" Blaise asked, apparently agreeing with Theo's statement.

Draco turned his attention back to his friends, listening intently but not participating in the conversation.

"We could just go to your common room," Theo shrugged. "Granger will be at the Gryffindor party probably, so we can hang out there."

Blaise shook his head slowly, the alcohol effects evident in the lazy movement.

"She was placing blankets and pillows on the floor in the common room when I left," Blaise drawled, his words slurring somewhat. "I think she's entertaining O and Loony Lovegood."

Draco stood, almost swaying on the spot as he grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey and a bottle of honeywine.

"Let's go." Draco ordered, Blaise sighing in response.

The last thing Blaise wanted in that moment was to take an intoxicated Draco Malfoy to his sister. But Draco ordered it, so he and Theo stood, grabbing a few drinks as well.

The three of them turned and sauntered – their movements clumsy due to their drunken states – out of the common room, making their way to the Head dormitories.

Making their way to the three girls whom plagued their thoughts. Girls who were enjoying a night together, soon to be interrupted by the three Slytherins.

* * *

"Truth or dare, O?" Hermione grinned as the three of them sprawled out on the blankets by the fireplace.

"Uh," Octavia thought, laying on her belly as she flicked the page of the latest fashion magazine. "Truth."

"You always pick truth," Hermione sighed, shaking her now-empty bottle of butterbeer.

"Fine," Octavia huffed, swigging the last of her honeywine. "Dare."

"Oh," Hermione grinned, shimmying around to sit cross-legged on the blankets. "I dare you to …"

Octavia smirked at Hermione as she thought, Octavia's feet swaying leisurely in the air.

"That's why I never pick dare," Octavia laughed as Hermione continued to think. "You're crap at making up dares."

Hermione scowled as Octavia picked up her purple quill and circled a pair of beautiful designer heels on the page of her fashion magazine.

"Do you get an allowance?" Hermione asked, glancing at the magazine.

"No," Octavia scoffed, as though Hermione's question was utterly ludicrous.

And it was, for Octavia had an unlimited spending limit. Obviously.

"Fine." Hermione grinned. "I dare you to buy the ugliest and most expensive thing in that magazine and wear it next week to Hogsmeade."

Octavia paled visibly as she met Hermione's mischievous brown eyes.

"You're kidding, right?" Octavia whispered as she blinked stupidly at her grinning friend.

"Hey," Hermione shrugged. "You picked dare."

Octavia murmured obscenities under her breath as she flicked through the magazine, performing the first part of the atrocious dare.

Luna stretched out on the blankets, gazing at the attire printed on the pages of the magazine curiously, her blonde hair curtaining her face.

"You've circled so many shoes," Luna commented.

"I like shoes," Octavia shrugged casually.

"How many shoes do you have?" Luna asked curiously, her sparkly blue eyes on the pages of the magazine.

"Uh," Octavia laughed. "I don't know. A lot."

"A lot?" Hermione scoffed. "She has a whole extra bedroom _just_ for her shoes and clothes."

"Oh, that's lovely." Luna smiled.

Octavia smiled, recalling the day that she had successfully persuaded her father to transform the bedroom next to hers into a large closet of sorts. Her skills of persuasion generally consisted of crying and throwing tantrums around the Manor until her father caved. A great day indeed.

"Done," Octavia grumbled, circling an orange velvet gown with blue trimmings.

Hermione leaned closer, her suspicious brown eyes scanning the image of the dress for moment before she nodded. Octavia scowled, flipping the magazine shut as Hermione stretched back out on the blankets.

"We need more honeywine," Octavia groaned, eyeing the empty bottles sadly.

"I'm already a bit tipsy," Hermione sighed, laying on her back. "I think I've had enough."

"You can never have enough honeywine," Octavia gasped in mock offense.

Hermione grinned in response, Luna now enthralled with the fashion magazine that Octavia paid no more interest to.

"Your turn, Ninny." Octavia began, her feet swaying in the air as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Truth or dare."

Neither of the girls noticed the portrait door open, having not heard it over the music coming from the wireless radio: A rendition of _Do The Hippogriff_. Nor did they notice the three Slytherins that slipped into the room, watching the girls intently.

"Truth," Hermione smiled, Octavia tossing a pillow at her instantly.

"That's not fair," Octavia whined. "You made me pick dare."

Hermione laughed but didn't change her response, the Slytherins stepping closer to the distracted girls quietly.

"Fine," Octavia huffed, glowering at her friend. "Snog, marry or Avada."

"Ok," Hermione smiled, waiting for the options.

"Snape, Neville and … Blaise." Octavia grinned, eyeing her friend expectantly, her hazel orbs alight with excitement.

Hermione hummed, none of the girls noticing the approaching Slytherins, particularly Blaise whom watched Hermione attentively.

"I would … I would snog Snape," Hermione mused aloud, tapping her finger to her chin. "I would … marry Neville and Avada Blaise."

"Liar," Octavia hissed, her hazel orbs glistening mischievously.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well," Blaise's drawl sounded out, all three girls flinching in response.

Hermione quickly sat up, her widened eyes on Blaise as he quirked his eyebrow, his jaw clenched tightly, indicating his anger at her response. Octavia remained in her position, laying on her tummy as she kept her eyes on the blanket beneath her; the less eye-contact she made with Draco, the better. Luna smiled sweetly at Theo whom winked in response. They didn't hate each other. Theo had always been polite to Luna throughout the years at Hogwarts, opting to never bully or torment her.

"I'm more disturbed at the thought of anyone snogging Snape," Theo jested, approaching the girls on the blankets before he seated himself beside Luna.

Apparently the boys were inviting themselves to join their girl's night. Theo placed the bottle of fire whiskey that he brought with him on the blanket, waving his wand to conjure up six tumblers. Blaise kept his dark eyes on Hermione as moved to sit beside the curly-haired brunette, placing a few bottles of butterbeer in the centre of the small space.

Octavia shimmied around, shifting to sit cross-legged, her body tense as Draco seated himself beside her, handing her a bottle of honeywine as he fixed his eyes on the nervous wizard-born. She didn't meet his stare, instead biting her bottom lip anxiously as her shaky hand removed the bottle of alcohol from his outstretched hand.

The silence in the room was thick, almost deafening in its intensity. All three girls were evidently on edge, even Luna who kept glancing at the drunken Draco Malfoy to ascertain his mood. A difficult task, considering his expression was impassive and stoic, his eyes only portraying intoxication as he stared at O.

"Whose turn is it?" Theo asked, breaking the tense silence.

"Mine," Luna spoke quietly, her blue eyes on Draco as he continued to stare intently at Octavia. The latter of the two merely fidgeted with the bottle in her hands, her eyes fixed on her legs.

"Truth or dare?" Theo asked, leaning back against the armchair as Luna returned her attention to him.

"Truth," Luna answered, an unusual selection for her.

Luna normally chose 'dare', but the girls were not surprised at her selection. It was certainly smart of her to not choose dare when around these particular Slytherins.

"Snog, marry or Avada," Theo drawled, his words slurring slightly.

Luna relaxed visibly at his choice of truth question, finding that it wasn't too invasive.

"Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and … _me_." Theo stated, smirking deviously as he filled a tumbler and handed it to Luna.

Hermione straightened up her back as Blaise handed her a butterbeer, his dark eyes penetrating the side of her face. She didn't even glance at him as she took the butterbeer, only nodding slightly in thanks.

"Ok," Luna smiled, the tension in the room dissipating marginally. "I would Avada Goyle because he pushed Octavia into the Black Lake last year."

Octavia smiled as she flicked her gaze to Luna, unscrewing the lid of her honeywine with a little more confidence. Draco watching her every move, his grey eyes noticing how her hand still trembled.

"I would snog you," Luna continued, blushing slightly. "And I would marry Crabbe."

"You would marry Vincent over me?" Theo asked, his displeasure evident in his beige-coloured eyes.

"Vincent's sweet," Luna shrugged. "I've never seen him bully anyone."

"I don't pick on you," Theo argued, his grip on his tumbler tightening.

"But Vincent doesn't pick on anyone," Luna said, speaking the truth.

Theo nodded once, his jaw clenched as he turned his angry eyes to Blaise.

Blaise cleared his throat, after taking a swig from his butterbeer.

"Octavia," Blaise began. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Octavia whispered, her toes wiggling as anxiety coursed through her body.

"How many people have you slept with?" Draco asked, interrupting Blaise.

Octavia blushed profusely, her hazel orbs flicking to a stoic Draco as she bit her lip. The question was entirely improper and much too intimate to be asked by the likes of him.

"I'm not answering that," Octavia said timidly, her hazel eyes swarming with trepidation.

"That many?" Draco smirked cruelly, eyeing her as though she was utterly repulsive.

Hermione slammed her bottle down on the floor, turning to face Blaise, her eyes alight with fury.

"May I speak with you?" Hermione hissed, Blaise quirking his brow in response. " _Alone_."

Blaise nodded, standing as Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed over to the desks in the corner of the room. Blaise smirked as he followed her, Theo shooting him a wink as he went.

"Hey, Luna," Theo said, nudging the girl with his elbow. "Show me where the wireless is, yeah? I hate this song."

Luna nodded, getting to her feet as Theo did, and guided him over to the shelf against the far wall.

* * *

Hermione crossed her arms importantly over her chest as she narrowed her eyes scathingly at an approaching – evidently intoxicated – Blaise.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hermione hissed, Blaise moving to lean against the wall.

For support, she knew. Not to appear nonchalant. He could barely stand without swaying on his feet.

"I'm talking with you," Blaise slurred, grinning at his own humour.

"Why did you have to bring them here?" Hermione seethed, her curls growing wilder as her fury increased. "Why did you bring Malfoy here?"

"Not a fan?" Blaise laughed, his wide grin flashing his perfectly white teeth.

"What I'm not a fan of is you!" Hermione snapped, stepping toward the man as she stared up at him with fury. "You treat this place like it's your little fucking man-cave! This is my common room too, Blaise and I expect you to treat it as such!"

Blaise raised his brows, his grin gone from his face as she jabbed his chest with her finger in an accusing gesture.

"You bring all sorts of trouble in here," Hermione hissed. "You think you can just bring whatever girls you want to here, and have your way with them on the couch. On _our_ couch! This is going to stop, do you understand me?"

Blaise didn't even get the chance to respond.

"I've had it up to here," Hermione declared, raising her hand above her head, "with your nonsense! If we're going to co-exist in the same space, you have to learn to respect others. A difficult task for you, I'm sure, considering you've had your ass wiped for you your entire life!"

Blaise's upper lip curled as his dark eyes glowered scathingly at the muggle-born, but she continued in her fit of rage.

"If you feel that you have to conduct yourself in a repulsive manner, do so outside of the common room." Hermione demanded. "Do not bring morally questionable girls back to _our_ common room. Do not bring a drunk Malfoy here so that he can bully your sister! Have you really no respect or consideration for anyone but yourself?"

Blaise kicked himself from the wall, his movements somewhat wonky. But Hermione did not falter. She stood her ground, fury and confidence radiating from her petite frame as she glowered up at him.

"If that is what you wish," Blaise whispered, his tone low and angry. "Then that is how it will be. But I will not ban my friends from this common room. As you said, lioness, it is _our_ shared space. I expect you to treat it as such."

Before Hermione could respond, a loud cracking sound erupted throughout the room, drawing everyone's tense attention instantly.

* * *

Octavia scowled as she watched the others abandon her, leaving her alone in the small circular space with her tormenter. The tormenter who watched her intently as he moved closer to her discreetly.

Debating internally, Octavia couldn't decide which course of action would put her in more danger with Draco. If she got up and tried to escape, it would be provoking him. She knew that from experience. But if she stayed, she'd be an easy target.

"So," Draco spoke softly, his tone causing Octavia to frown in confusion as she met his gaze. "How many?"

"That's none of your business," Octavia snapped, her fear and foolish indignation evident in her eyes.

"It is the game," Draco shrugged, his words slurring slightly.

"I'm not playing anymore," Octavia scowled, noticing that Draco scooted a little closer to her, their legs almost touching now.

He didn't respond, the both of them remaining in silence as he moved even closer, their thighs pressed firmly together. She met his intense stare, his grey eyes glazed over by his inebriated state. But that only added to her unease.

"I liked your dress," Draco whispered, Octavia blinking stupidly in response.

"What?" Octavia frowned.

"The dress you were wearing today," Draco explained, his voice completely void of malice. "It was nice. It complimented you."

"Ohhh," Octavia nodded, feigning sudden understanding. " _That's_ why you ruined it."

Draco clenched his jaw, his grey eyes penetrating her hazel orbs fiercely. But, surprisingly, he didn't curse her into oblivion. Instead, he shocked her to her core.

Draco raised his hand, brushing his fingers through her loose curls as she tensed visibly. He leaned forward slightly, their faces a mere inch apart.

"I apologise," Draco whispered, his warm breath brushing over her lips gently. "I will purchase you a new one. Or several, if you wish."

Swallowing audibly, Octavia's eyes widened as shock froze her in place. This sudden softness of Draco was entirely alien to her; at least since they were kids, that is. But only a few hours ago he was bullying her in Hogsmeade, and now he was _apologising_? Draco Malfoy never apologised. Especially not to her. She was completely and utterly flabbergasted.

"You are so beautiful," Draco whispered, so quietly she almost didn't hear it.

"What are you doing?" Octavia whispered as his face inched closer to hers, their noses touching softly.

Draco didn't respond, but hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin as his lips pressed softly against her plump pink lips.

She was frozen. Their soft lips touching, pressed together. His breath invading her mouth. Her heart rate increasing rapidly.

He parted his lips further, his eyes shutting. Before he could continue in his attempt to kiss her, however, Octavia's hand shot up and whacked his face with surprising strength.

The sound of the slap caught everyone's attention, the four others in the room gaping at the scene in shock.

Draco's head was turned to the side, the force of the slap evident in his position. Octavia sat before him, breathing hard and fast as her eyes widened, the reality of what she had just done causing a horrendous surge of panic to soar through her. His assaulted cheek grew pink quickly, his jaw clenched tightly as he kept his face turned to the side, his entire body tense with rage. And it was evident, from Draco's position of half-over Octavia, that he had attempted to kiss her. His hand still cupping her cheek gently.

The entire room was submerged in a dreadful silence, everyone awaiting the reaction of Draco. But it didn't come. He merely craned his neck, not meeting her eyes as he stood, his fists clenched tightly. Octavia watched with consuming fear as he turned and stormed out of the common room, Blaise and Theo following suit. Her brother shooting a concerned glance at her as he departed the room. But she barely noticed it.

The portrait door slammed shut, leaving the three utterly shocked girls to remain frozen in place, Octavia almost hyperventilating on the floor where she sat.

She was certain that she would be paying for that later.

HermiHer


	8. Chapter 8

Octavia sat by herself at the Slytherin table, pushing her porridge around the bowl to ensure that the honey thoroughly mixed in with the lumpy substance. Her longing gaze flicked over to the Gryffindor table frequently, fixing on Ninny as she laughed at whatever Ron and Harry were saying. Octavia wished to join them that morning for breakfast, but she had been taking extra care to not anger Draco that past week.

He hadn't tormented her lately. He hadn't bullied her or picked on her in the slightest. All he had done that week was stare at her. Like he was doing at that moment. But Octavia ignored it. She was certain that he was merely awaiting for her to relax before he attacked. Probably brewing up some evil concoction of his worst attack to date.

Whatever the reason for his lack of torment, Octavia remained suspicious. She was always on edge. For one week ago, Octavia slapped Draco.

Despite how evidently foolish it was of her to slap him, she couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself. She had stood up to him. In a sense, anyway. Draco Malfoy was the very man that struck fear through her with a mere glance. He wasn't a man that you rejected, nor was he a man that you slapped. Yet, Octavia did. She slapped him. And it felt amazing.

In saying that, Octavia was well aware that her act of defiance was incredibly stupid and foolish. She knew that she would pay for it.

Yet, he did nothing. He only watched her. He didn't speak to her or draw any attention to her in class or in the Slytherin common rooms. He only watched her. Perhaps he would leave her alone now? Knowing that she had a little fight in her still. Probably not.

But a girl could dream.

The chatter in the Great Hall dissolved as owls swooped in through the windows, carrying an array of letters and parcels. Octavia smiled as she looked up, spotting her father's black eagle soaring right toward her with a letter in its beak. However her smile quickly gave way to a perplexed frown as an ordinary brown owl followed the eagle in her direction, carrying a large purple box in its claws.

Octavia set to removing the letter and parcel from the respective owls, both of which flew off after presumptuously nibbling at her porridge. Unwrapping the letter first, Octavia tore at the envelope unceremoniously as she bit her lip, preparing herself for her father's letter. It could either be congratulating and conveying his pride in her, or it could be scolding her. She hoped for the former. Obviously.

.

 _Dear Octavia,_

 _I am pleased to receive news that you have taken the initiative of forming a new social club at Hogwarts. While I believe that there are other ways of utilising your talents, forming a Magical Creatures Club is quite the accomplishment. Furthermore, I am pleased to read that you have taken the appropriate measures to strengthen your dismal grades in Potions by joining the Potions Club. It brings me great pleasure to know that you are doing everything within your abilities to ensure that you educate yourself outside of the classroom too._

 _Perhaps by forming and joining these extracurricular societies, your grades will increase in time for the semester results. I would be most proud if this were the case._

 _On another note, I have received a most troubling letter from your brother this week. Blaise has advised me that over the weekend, you deemed it appropriate to use violence against Draco Malfoy after indulging in inebriating substances. I can only hope that what your brother has claimed to be little more than a misunderstanding, or even a vicious rumour. For it would hurt me greatly to learn of your improper behaviour toward Draco Malfoy._

 _As you are aware, the Malfoy family remain close with our own. Therefore, such improper acts toward the Malfoy heir would justifiably disappoint myself and your mother beyond measure. I eagerly await your response regarding this troubling matter._

 _Your mother has since, following the unconfirmed claim of your brother, suggested your relocation to Beauxbatons Academy. It is a great concern of us, given the recent revelations regarding your behaviour, that we were mistaken in our decision to enrol you at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We have discussed the relocation of your educational setting to a more appropriate establishment, as Beauxbatons acts as finishing school for young women such as yourself. We wonder if it would better serve you to attend this educational institute._

 _Eagerly awaiting your response,_

 _Father._

.

Octavia scowled as she crumpled up the letter huffily, moving to stuff it into her bag theatrically. Could she really claim to be surprised at Blaise snitching on her? No. But it didn't ease the anger or hurt within her at the discovery. Particularly when Blaise knew that their parents were considering transferring her to Beauxbatons for her seventh year. A potential outcome that she had fought vigorously against. She figured that it worth the torment from Draco and Millicent if she could remain in the company of her two closest friends, Hermione and Luna. Her father didn't seem to agree.

And once her father had made up his mind, there was no changing it. His word was final.

Grateful that she had saved the parcel until last, Octavia set to tearing off the purple wrappings quickly. She needed a little pick-me-up following her father's letter. And presents were just the way to do that.

Octavia stood up from her chair as she lifted the lid of the box, peering excitedly inside at the contents. But she quickly frowned in confusion as her hazel eyes scanned the dress within the box.

A lilac dress made of nymph hair. The very same incredibly expensive and rare dress that Draco had ruined the previous weekend. How odd.

Initially, Octavia assumed that her mother had merely sent a replacement of the dress. But then she remembered that her mother was not aware of its destruction, so it couldn't have been her. Unless her brother ratted her out again, that is. But even at that, her mother would merely scold her for ruining her dress and remind her to take better care of her things. She wouldn't replace it immediately, without a word. No. It wasn't her mother.

On top of that, the parcel was sent by a Hogwarts owl. An average, brown, barn owl.

No note accompanied the parcel. No indication of the sender whatsoever.

No matter. She loved the dress and was glad for the replacement.

Octavia placed the lid back on the shiny cardboard box before pushing it to the side, setting to dig back into her breakfast.

Entirely ignorant of Draco's intense stare directed right at her. His jaw clenching as he watched her dismiss the gift that he had sent her.

Anonymously, of course.

* * *

Hermione walked through the corridors of the castle in the late evening, Octavia tottering along beside her as she conducted her patrol. Grateful for the company, Hermione listened as Octavia yammered on about her father's reprimanding letter which she had received at breakfast that morning. Hermione felt a surge of pity for her wizard-born friend, finding it rather sad that her brother had informed her parents of Octavia slapping Draco the week before. She had no doubt in her mind that Blaise had opted to leave out Draco's incessant bullying of the girl and his drunken attempt to kiss her before her hand connected with his face.

Plain and simple; in Hermione's opinion, Malfoy deserved the slap. He deserved so much more than a slap. If it were _her_ , Hermione would have hexed the hell out of the prat. But Octavia couldn't and wouldn't. So, suffice it to say, Hermione was quite proud of Octavia's show of strength and bravery. Although, there was no sign of either of those things in that moment. Octavia was scared.

Octavia was evidently dreading the reaction of Draco Malfoy. Whilst it had been a week since the slap, Octavia feared that he would not allow her to go on unpunishment. And Hermione had to agree.

"Do you think they will really send you to Beauxbatons?" Hermione asked, peering into an empty broom closet as she patrolled the fifth floor. A popular corridor for licentious activities to take place.

"I dunno," Octavia shrugged, inspecting her perfectly manicured pink nails as they continued to walk down the dim corridor. "Maybe."

"Perhaps you should speak to your brother," Hermione suggested, eager to prevent the removal of her best friend.

"About what?" Octavia frowned, assessing her cuticles with narrowed eyes.

"About him telling on you," Hermione explained. "Maybe if you talk to him, he won't do it again."

"Maybe," Octavia shrugged, knowing that it would have no effect on his decisions whatsoever. "How's he been?"

"Your brother?" Hermione asked, opening the door to a classroom to inspect it.

"Yeah."

"He's … been alright, I suppose."

"Alright as in not a prat?" Octavia clarified. "Or alright as in you're just ignoring his prattish ways."

Hermione smiled, closing the door to the classroom once certain that was unoccupied.

"He hasn't been brining girls back to the common room," Hermione explained. "So, he's been tolerable."

"Good," Octavia nodded, eyeing Hermione admirably.

Of course Hermione had the power to prevent Blaise's blatant disrespectful ways. It only took her berating him one week ago in the corner of the common room for Blaise to cease his discourteous antics. Antics that predominantly consisted of presuming claim over the shared common room, utilising it as a brothel and man-cave of sorts.

"And Malfoy?" Hermione asked as they turned down another corridor.

"What about him?"

"How has he been with you?" Hermione elaborated, peering into a deep alcove.

"He … hasn't," Octavia shrugged, her stilettos clacking against the stone floor as they walked. "He's just left me alone so far."

Hermione hummed as she opened an old wooden door to check inside. All clear.

"It's rather odd, don't you think?" Hermione asked as they continued down the dark corridor.

"What is?"

"That he tried to kiss you."

"Oh," Octavia bit her lip. "Yeah, well … he was drunk."

"You know what they say when you're drunk," Hermione sang, her eyebrows raised.

"No," Octavia frowned, eyeing her friend curiously.

"The truth comes out," Hermione explained, keeping the exasperation from her tone.

Octavia laughed loudly, her curls bouncing which each step as they continued to patrol the corridor.

"Yeah," Octavia mocked. "His truth is that he's madly in love with me and just wants to kiss me all the time."

Hermione scoffed, finding that Octavia was correct in her sarcasm. The thought was downright ludicrous. Wasn't it?

Definitely.

"What did he say before he kissed you?"

"He didn't kiss me," Octavia scowled, the thought utterly repulsive to her. "He _tried_ to."

Although their lips did come into contact, their soft lips pressed against one another's. Like they used to kiss when they were younger. Well, once at least.

"Well what did he say before he attempted to kiss you?"

"Dunno," Octavia shrugged, frowning as she thought. "Just that he'd buy me a new dress and that he's sorry."

"Oh?" Hermione raised her brows.

"Not a real sorry though," Octavia shook her head. "Like … he was almost mocking me or something. And he said I was beautiful."

"Did he?" Hermione asked, her shock palpable.

"Yeah," Octavia scowled. "His usual pick-up lines I guess. Didn't work on me."

Hermione nodded, finding that she felt there was something a little more to his behaviour. Perhaps it was a new method of torturing O that he had created? For it definitely couldn't be what it seemed. It couldn't be that he actually did fancy her. No. That was preposterous.

A wide grin spread across Octavia's face as Hermione emitted a disgruntled sigh, the broom closet to the left evidently occupied. Moans and a girl's giggles sounded out from the closed door to the broom closet, Octavia almost jumping on the spot with glee. She couldn't wait to catch people in the act and embarrass them.

Perhaps get a good look at a penis, too. Having only ever seen them in the magazines that Millicent kept under her pillow.

Octavia wasn't necessarily _fond_ of the appearance of penises. But she could see the appeal. Particularly when they were long, thick and smooth. Those were definitely her favourites.

Hermione slipped out her wand as she approached the door, the girl inside moaning wantonly as Octavia stifled a giggle. Her excited hazel orbs glistening incredibly as Hermione placed her hand on the door knob, turning it quietly before whipping the door open.

Octavia squealed at what she saw, her face burning bright red as her hands slapped over her eyes, shieling her vision from the repulsive scene. Hermione gaped like a fish, her brown eyes lingering far too long on the tanned penis that protruded from Blaise's trousers.

It appeared that he was only just about to insert it into the girl that leaned against the wall, chest first, her knickers around her ankles.

Blaise stood behind the girl, one palm on the wall, his chest pressed against the girl's back, while his other hand gripped the base of his erection.

"Don't you knock?" Blaise drawled, stuffing his erection back in his pants.

But not before Hermione saw it. Especially when it twitched as he looked at her, white liquid trickling out of the head.

Octavia groaned, utterly disturbed, as she kept her hands over her eyes, the blush heating her palms.

Hermione, coming back to her senses, raised her chin in the air as she glowered at the Head Boy disapprovingly. The girl in the closet hastily pulled up her knickers, burning a brighter shade of red than Octavia who mumbled incoherent words.

"Miranda Creevy, is it?" Hermione asked, staring at the girl with distaste.

The girl nodded as Blaise shrugged, evidently not knowing his company's name.

"A fifth year," Hermione scoffed, shaking her head as she turned her disgusted brown eyes to a nonchalant Blaise. "That's revolting."

Blaise smirked in response as the girl decided to flee, scurrying out of the broom closet and down the corridor at an incredible speed. But she wasn't quick enough.

"THIRTY POINTS FROM HUFFLEPUFF!" Hermione shouted after the girl.

The girl kept running. Octavia couldn't blame her really. Even _she_ wanted to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction. But no amount of running would ever rid of her of the images that were now burned into her mind.

The first penis she had ever seen …

Oh God.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Octavia shouted, dropping her hands from her face as she directed her fury toward her brother. "She's fifteen you fucking pervert!"

"I am only two years her senior," Blaise drawled, his eyes remaining on a furious Hermione. "And it's not like the girl is a virgin, or anything."

"Does that matter?" Hermione snapped, her curls growing wilder with her fury. "The girl is still too young for … _that_!"

"That?" Blaise grinned wickedly, stepping out of the broom closet before closing the door behind him. "You mean fucking?"

"You're revolting," Hermione hissed, her distaste palpable.

Octavia nodded vigorously in agreeance by Hermione's side, crossing her arms over her chest importantly.

" _Fifty_ points from Slytherin." Hermione snipped, clenching her jaw slightly.

Octavia smirked as she flicked her curls over her shoulder before a frown graced her face, finding that his punishment affected her too.

"What?" Octavia gasped, turning her attention to a fuming Hermione. "You took only thirty points from that girl!"

"That's right, O." Blaise smirked, reclining against the door. "Rather unfair, don't you think?"

"You're Head Boy!" Hermione snapped. "You should know better."

Blaise hummed, nodding his head as he appeared to agree.

"I am, aren't I?" He drawled, kicking himself from the door. "In that case, fifty points to Slytherin."

"On what cause?" Hermione spat, raising her brow expectantly.

"For Octavia," Blaise smirked.

"What did I do?" Octavia frowned, utterly unaccustomed to receiving house points.

"You slapped Draco," Blaise grinned, placing his hands in his pockets. "I didn't know you had it in you."

Octavia beamed at the praise, Hermione scowling at Blaise fiercely.

"Now if you will excuse me," Blaise mocked as he bowed deeply. "I have to fill the next hour of my evening."

Octavia shuddered at the implications, the thought of her brother entertaining another whore utterly repulsing her. Hermione clenched her jaw and watched with furious brown eyes as Blaise turned and sauntered down the corridor, out of sight.

But Octavia saw the flicker in her brown eyes. She saw it, but didn't speak of it.

It wouldn't be productive to mention the heated jealousy in her brown eyes. It was best just to ignore it.

* * *

Octavia packed her belongings into her school bag, the nameless girl who sat beside her doing the same. After a double lesson of History of Magic, Octavia was feeling rather miserable. She struggled with retaining the information that Professor Diggory had spoken throughout the class. She took insufficient notes due to her constant daydreaming of the Professor throughout the class. And now, he had asked her to remain behind in order to discuss the essay she had submitted the day prior.

That was never a good sign in her experience.

Sighing, she slung her bag over her shoulder as she sat on the desk, her milky legs hanging over the side. Octavia didn't miss the warning stare that her brother shot her way, but chose to ignore it. She wasn't even sure what his stare was in regards to. It was best to not dwell on it, however. She would never understand him, no matter how hard she tried.

Once the students had cleared out of the classroom, Professor Diggory approached his own desk, ignoring Octavia for a moment. Her hazel eyes focused on her heel-clad feet as she swayed them leisurely, biting her lip nervously.

The Professor who starred in her many daydreams approached her, his brown eyes on her meek expression as he handed her the essay in question.

"I had a look over it last night," Professor Diggory said, Octavia not meeting his eyes as she hesitantly took the parchment from his outstretched hand.

"It's bad," Octavia whispered, glancing at his notes that covered the paper. "I know."

"It … needs work," Professor Diggory said tactfully, eyeing her blushing face with pity. "Perhaps you would benefit from a tutor."

Octavia nodded weakly, her cheeks flushing as she kept her eyes on her fidgeting feet, looking thoroughly dejected.

She had worked very hard on that essay, in an effort to impress him. It appeared to have the opposite effect.

"So I failed, then." Octavia sighed, jumping off the desk as she pouted.

"No," the Professor said gently, her eyes flicking up into his soft gaze. "I wrote some notes on the essay, but haven't graded it yet. I am giving you an extension."

Octavia smiled softly as she gazed at him, relishing in the beauty of his kindness toward her. Her blush increased as he glanced at her smiling lips, lingering on them for a moment before he cleared his throat.

"It is due in one week," Professor Diggory spoke formally, straightening his back slightly as his professional demeanour slipped back into place.

"Ok," Octavia smiled, her cheeks burning from the blush that assaulted her. "Um … you know that no one will tutor me though, right?"

Professor Diggory pursed his lips as he considered her, the softness returning to his eyes. She watched as he sighed and ran his fingers through his light brown hair lazily, his eyes flicking to the small amount of cleavage that her tight shirt allowed.

"Can you … tutor me?" Octavia asked, her hopeful hazel orbs gazing at him as his eyes travelled to her milky smooth legs.

"I …" Professor Diggory hesitated, returning his glazed over, yet conflicted eyes to her gaze. "I'm not sure that … it would be appropriate."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, her expression immediately dejected. "That's alright … I'll just … try harder next time."

Professor Diggory nodded as she smiled weakly at him, his eyes watching her as she turned and departed the classroom. His eyes locking onto her short school skirt as she walked, the bounce in her steps causing the skirt to flick up at the movements. Providing his eyes with brief glimpses of the curve of her bottom. If he craned his neck the right way, that is.

Not that he did that or anything.

No. That would be incredibly inappropriate.

* * *

Octavia smiled proudly as she eyed the turnout to her new club, 'Caring for Magical Creatures Society'. Whilst it wasn't nearly as popular as other clubs, such as the house Duelling clubs, it was more than what she had initially anticipated. Two of the students that arrived at the grassy area by Hagrid's hut were there for moral support; Hermione and Luna. But the other fourteen students were there purely out of interest and excitement. And that had Octavia's pride soaring, as well as her nerves.

"Ok," Octavia began, standing before the eager students. "Uh … welcome … to the first meeting of the … uh … 'Caring for Magical Creatures Society'."

Ninny offered her a reassuring smile, encouraging a nervous Octavia to continue.

"Um … today, I thought we could just … start with something small and go from there." Octavia continued, her voice shaking. "I think we could … maybe just talk about the animals that we could look at and talk about in upcoming meetings … and … uh … maybe we could … uh … just start with Kneazles …"

The students glanced at one another, the disappointment evident in their slumping shoulders. Octavia noticed this, biting her lip anxiously as she waved her hand, indicating for Ninny to join her.

"Um … Hermione here has brought her own familiar … a Kneazle … so that we can … you know …" Octavia mumbled, her eyes flickering to the adjacent grounds where Draco Malfoy watched her intently from the stone benches.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly, taking the attention from a grateful Octavia.

"This –" Hermione raised the orange cat in her hands, "– is Crookshanks, a Kneazle feline. Her kind are registered as third classification by the Ministry of Magic, deeming them to be incredibly intelligent and protective of their wizards and witches. If provoked, a Kneazle can become quite vicious, but are normally content to lounge around and have their bellies rubbed. Kneazles hate anyone touching their tails, however."

"Why?" A fourth-year Slytherin boy asked, eyeing the creature suspiciously.

"Uh," Octavia began, tearing her eyes from Draco as he continued to watch her intently. "Kneazles use their tails to pick up on any nearby danger or threat. That's why their tails are always stretched up in the air. It has thin, special hairs that tingle when a threat is around."

The Slytherin boy nodded, his eyes softening somewhat as he inspected the creature from a distance.

Hermione, again, took the reins, stepping closer to the students to place Crookshanks on the grass. The students approached the creature slowly, all kneeling around the feline as they outstretched their hands.

Octavia, however, returned her attention to the Hogwarts grounds, hazel meeting grey as she pursed her lips. Considering the fact that it was after school hours, it wasn't unusual for Draco to be out in the gardens of the castle with his fellow Slytherins. But she suspected that he was only out in the gardens that afternoon to observe Octavia in the first meeting of her newly formed club.

Why else would he be completely ignoring Theo and Blaise as they chatted and laughed on either side of Draco?

"O?" Luna's voice chimed, causing Octavia to tear her eyes away from Draco's.

Octavia hummed as she tottered over to the group of students, kneeling down on the grass beside Hermione as everyone cooed over a purring Crookshanks.

"Maybe we could learn about Nargles in a few weeks?" Luna suggested, some students stifling laughs as she spoke. "It would be best to learn about them before Christmas."

"Why before Christmas?" Neville Longbottom asked as Crookshanks nibbled on his finger.

"Because they hide in mistletoe," Octavia answered automatically, blushing profusely as several students snickered.

"That's a good suggestion, Luna." Hermione smiled, the students glancing at her as she spoke. "But I think we're going more in the direction of unicorns and thestrals."

Most of the students nodded and hummed in approval, finding the prospect of handling creatures of that magnitude rather exciting.

"Yeah," Octavia agreed. "And I don't want to just focus on 'beings' creatures. I think it would be fun to learn about spirit creatures too, like ghosts and maybe poltergeists."

The students around her erupted into a loud murmur of approval, some of them grinning widely at the prospect. They hadn't learned much about the non-beings during their years at Hogwarts, and the thought of doing so was quite exciting indeed.

Octavia smiled bashfully as she averted her eyes from the approving stares she was subject too. Finding that she was quite glad that she had created her own club. Perhaps if she did well with it, her father would dismiss the thought of changing her school.

She could only hope. For Octavia adored the magical school of Hogwarts and being around her two best friends every day. It was wonderful.

She didn't want to leave.

Not even Draco Malfoy's unwavering stare could put a damper on her soaring mood.

In fact, she forgot all about him in that moment.

Despite the fact that he continued to watch her intently, his brows furrowing fleetingly as his grey eyes stared longingly at her. His grey eyes that radiated hate and lust. Slivers of affection swarming in them. Completely conflicted.

Conveying his own thoughts. Thoughts and feelings that he had yet to understand or decipher.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione almost drowned in thick and heavy books as she sat at the wooden table in the depths of the library, Octavia seated across from her. Thankfully O had ceased her whining over her father's second letter, which had been written rather curtly due to Octavia's lack of response to the letter she had received a few days ago. Hermione could hardly blame Octavia for her reluctance to respond and address the claims of violence used against Draco Malfoy. But putting it off was hardly the best route of choice, in Hermione's opinion. An opinion that proved to be correct.

For Octavia's father, Leonardo Zabini, had sent another letter that morning reprimanding his daughter for her silence, stating that he assumed her silence to be one of guilt. So Octavia sat at the table in the library with Hermione during lunch, chewing her glittery purple quill nervously as she hummed aloud, evidently attempting to decide on a response to her aggravated father.

"Ninny," Octavia sang, now twirling her quill absentmindedly as she scowled at her parchment. "What's a better way of saying that Blaise is a lying scumbag?"

Hermione smiled, resisting a giggle at her clearly displeased, yet anxious friend. Although Hermione was a little annoyed herself, given that she had opted to visit the library over lunch that day between classes to work on her Ancient Ruins essay. Something that she had barely had the chance to do as Octavia continued to whine and interrupt her studies.

"Why don't you just tell them the truth?" Hermione suggested, her brown eyes remaining on the parchment before her. "Malfoy tried to kiss you and you rejected his advances."

Octavia scoffed indelicately, tickling her own chin with the tip of the quill. "Father would have a fit if he knew I rejected Draco Malfoy."

"Why?" Hermione frowned, fixing her curious gaze on O.

"Because … it's Draco Malfoy," Octavia shrugged casually. "Father would see him as a potential husband if he knew he tried to kiss me. And then he would think that he can now talk to the Malfoys about uniting us."

"Isn't Malfoy already betrothed to Astoria Greengrass?"

"Yeah, but nothing's official until the courting ceremony and then the actual wedding." Octavia explained, hating that her friend was ignorant to the ways of pureblood society.

"Why would your father consider Malfoy as a potential suitor?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows as she stared curiously at O. "Doesn't he know how Malfoy treats you?"

"Sort of," Octavia shrugged nonchalantly. "He doesn't know how bad though. It doesn't matter anyway. Draco is the … well, he's like the most popular choice for a husband because of his family and status. So father would just tell me to deal with it."

"That's horrid," Hermione huffed, her vexation palpable.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded. "What about you, though? Will your parents make you marry someone you don't like?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Arranged marriages in most of the muggle world are completely outdated."

"Really?" Octavia asked, her hazel orbs glistening with interest.

"Uh huh," Hermione nodded, smiling slightly. "Dad would have to _approve_ , but only because his support means a lot to me."

"But if he didn't approve and you really liked someone and wanted to marry them?"

"Then I would hope that dad would come around," Hermione shrugged.

"But … can you marry someone without your father's approval?" Octavia asked eagerly.

"Yes."

"Wow," Octavia breathed, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "That must be pretty amazing."

"I suppose it is," Hermione nodded weakly.

To Hermione, freedom to make her own decision was hardly 'amazing' to her. It was expected and normal in her world. But to Octavia, judging by her stunned expression, it was something out of a fantasy world. Something foreign that she desired, yet would never have. Hermione felt a surge of pity for the girl and the archaic ways of her society.

"Has your father entered into any negotiations regarding your hand in marriage?" Hermione asked, her interest – and offense – peaked.

"Uh," Octavia frowned as she thought. "Not really. He gets offers but doesn't pay them any mind."

"Why not?"

"The offers are from families that aren't rich enough or something." Octavia shrugged.

"Does wealth matter that much?"

"To my father? Yeah." Octavia scowled. "It's hard though. We're the fourth wealthiest in Britain and one of the oldest pureblood families in Europe. So the offers we get won't be good enough anyway."

"Unless they are from a wealthier family," Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Yeah," Octavia sighed. "And that just happens to be the Malfoys, Notts and Shacklebolts. In Britain, anyway."

"Well, maybe he will consider offers from European families?" Hermione suggested.

"Maybe," Octavia nodded. "The Christmas Ball this year is actually the three hundredth anniversary of the banquets. So there will be other families there from all over Europe."

Hermione offered a reassuring smile to her friend, but her heart wasn't really in it. How could she really offer genuine support to Octavia when she thoroughly believed the practice of arranged marriages to be out-dated and bordering on prehistoric? She couldn't. All she could do was assist Octavia as much as she could and merely watch from the sidelines as she was essentially sold to another family like cattle. The thought shot surges of injustice through her. But what could she do about it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The girls fell into a comfortable silence as they set to accomplish their respective tasks; Hermione writing notes for her Ancient Ruins essay that wasn't due for another week, and Octavia tackling the letter that she would soon send to her father.

Octavia's task was certainly the more challenging of the two.

.

 _Father,_

 _I don't know why Blaise said those things. They're not true. Like, at all._

 _He's just trying to get me into trouble because I found him in a broom closet with some random fifth year Ravenclaw. In an improper position. He knows that I will tell on him so he is trying to push the attention onto me._

 _Don't worry father. I'm behaving like a lady and focusing on my school work. I would never insult Draco Malfoy in that way. I know his family's status and Draco's influence so I wouldn't do that._

 _I don't want to change schools and it's not fair if you make me because Blaise lied. Maybe he's the one that should change schools. I think Durmstrang would be a good idea 'cause it's an all-boys school and Blaise obviously doesn't know how to behave around ladies. And I would never embarrass our family like that._

 _Love and kisses!_

 _Octavia Xo_

 _P.S. I sent mother a copy of Milan Witch Wear two days ago and still haven't gotten my new clothes from her owl. Can you remind her please? Thank you!_

* * *

Her moans and whimpers were grating against his fucking eardrums horrendously. His skin was almost crawling as she writhed beneath him, Draco struggling to remain hard enough to continue fucking her. A difficult endeavour, but he pushed through the struggle. He had to.

Harsh breathes escaped his parted lips, his brow furrowed as he pounded into the girl, her blonde ringlets spread out over his pillow. His eyes fixed on the curls, the sight allowing his semi-erection to grow slightly. But of course, the hardening of his cock quickly came to an abrupt stop as he foolishly glanced at her face.

"Oh fuck," the girl mewed atrociously. "Yeah, Malfoy … right there."

Draco groaned, not out of pleasure, as he pushed away from the girl, his almost-flaccid cock snug inside of her. A frown graced her face, her plump chest heaving from exertion as she eyed him with confusion.

He knelt between her legs, his marble-like body glistening with sweat as his hands rubbed over his face.

"What's wrong?" Lavender Brown asked, her voice sickly sweet as she attempted to seduce him all over again.

Draco merely ran his fingers through his hair as he looked down at her with cold eyes, his jaw set firmly. In the ten or so days since the Slytherin party in the common room, Draco had been faced with the same challenge over and over again. The challenge that first presented itself while the Ravenclaw girl dry-humped him on the armchair.

A flaccid cock.

So when Lavender Brown had eye-fucked him during Defence Against the Dark Arts, and his cock began to grow, he took full advantage of it. He allowed her feeble attempts to seduce him and quickly escorted her back to his quiet dormitory, rather than attending the Great Hall for lunch. He needed this more. That was for fucking sure.

Draco had no problem whatsoever in gaining an erect cock at night, alone in his bed. When he thought of _her_. Fucking Octavia. It seemed to be the only thing to have his cock aching and standing to attention without any effort whatsoever.

He just couldn't allow that.

So when Lavender Brown had his cock coming to life, he ensured that the opportunity did not pass him by. Even if it meant breaking the rule of not fucking Gryffindors or clingy whores. It didn't matter. He had to get off on someone other than the licentious images of Octavia Zabini.

But now that he was here … Now that Lavender lay, legs-spread wide, on his bed, maintaining his erection became quite the trial indeed.

"Do you want me to suck it again?" Lavender purred in a thoroughly repulsive tone that he assumed was intended to seduce him. It didn't.

"Just shut up," Draco sighed, closing his eyes and focusing hard on regaining his erection.

Annoyingly, the image of Octavia writhing beneath him sprung into his mind, her swollen lips parted as she mewed and whimpered. And there it was.

His cock sprung back to life, twitching against the soaked walls of Lavender's cunt desperately. He didn't even bother glancing at the scowling witch beneath him as he pulled out of her quickly and flipped her over on the bed.

Draco groaned as she lay face-down on the mattress, her ass raised in the air as he slammed his cock into her cunt brutally. His heated grey eyes fixed on her blonde curls, pretending that they were Octavia's as he pounded into the Gryffindor Slut ferociously.

He blocked out her repulsive moans and sickening pleas for more as he fucked her hard, his hand burying into her ringlets to hold her down as he pummelled her cunt desperately.

What the fuck was happening to him?

It wasn't like he had never fantasised about Octavia before, for he had. Countless times. But so had the majority of men at the school, he suspected. She was stunning. She was cute and vulnerable. Her only downfall was her squib-nature. A massive flaw. One that could not be overlooked. But still, he didn't really focus on that flaw as he fantasised about the bint.

What perplexed him, however, was that he had never had trouble becoming aroused by other women before.

A problem that he had first encountered at the Slytherin party with that fucking Ravenclaw girl. A problem that he was determined to demolish.

Much like he was demolishing Lavender Brown in that moment.

Once successfully reigniting his arousal, Draco panted and groaned as held her down, tilting his hips and slamming into her at an entirely new angle. An angle that she appeared to like as she began to mew wantonly, Draco's forehead glistening with sweat, his blonde hair damp from the substance.

His eyes fluttered shut, his fingers gripping her hair as he thought of Octavia again, his climax washing over him suddenly as he tensed and groaned loudly.

Thankfully, Lavender followed suit unexpectedly, her cunt quivering around his cock as he slammed into her one last time, to the hilt.

He was grateful for her climax. He didn't need rumours to circulate Hogwarts about him losing his talents. Renowned talents that had girls flocking to him.

No. It wouldn't do him any favours to have the whole school knowing about his little problem.

The problem that he just didn't know how to combat.

* * *

Hermione rolled her eyes as she entered the Head common room, Luna yammering on beside her about wrackspurts. Her Ravenclaw friend had not shut up about the mythical creatures for the past thirty minutes, Hermione finding it more and more difficult to feign interest. Thankfully, Luna ceased her blathering as they entered the common room, Hermione revelling in the wave of relief that washed over her delightfully. Her relief, however, quickly dissipated as she realised the cause of Luna's sudden silence.

Theodore Nott reclined in the armchair by the fireplace, surrounded with parchment and textbooks, Blaise mirroring the scene on the sofa. To Hermione's surprise, they appeared to be studying. Although she was rather disappointed by that observation as it was the very reason that she and Luna had returned to the Head common room – to study in peace.

But what could she do about it, really? This was Blaise's common room as much as it was hers, so she could hardly be justifiably annoyed at him for occupying the space. But she was.

The Slytherin boys inclined their heads to the girls, Theodore smirking as his eyes connected with Luna's. Blaise eyed the pile of books clutched against Hermione's chest for a moment before he scooted over and shuffled his own textbooks to the side, creating enough space for the two girls. Hermione hesitated as he waved his hand, indicating that the girls were welcome to join them at the sitting area. But before Hermione could politely decline his offer, Luna smiled and skipped over to the coffee table, plopping herself down before it. Hermione noticed that Luna sat a foot or so away from the armchair that Theo occupied.

Despite her annoyance, Hermione forced her expression to portray civility as she approached the sitting area, seating herself on the opposite end of the sofa and placing her belongings between her and Blaise. The Head Boy clenched his jaw at her movements, finding that he had rather hoped she would sit a little closer to him. Alas, she did not and he chose not to speak of it.

"What are you working on?" Theo asked Luna as she opened her books.

"Divination," Luna sang, pulling out her tarot cards.

Theo smirked as he nodded, finding that he was not surprised in the slightest that Luna had chosen the ridiculous subject. But it didn't bother him. It delighted him.

"You?" Luna asked politely, keeping her sparkly blue eyes on the tarot cards that she began to shuffle delicately.

"Transfiguration," Theo answered, standing from the armchair to sit beside Luna on the rug.

Luna blushed as he seated himself beside her, Theo watching intently as she spread out the deck on the coffee table.

Blaise glanced at the duo by the coffee table before turning his head to stare at Hermione. The curly-haired Head Girl had already submerged herself in her studies, chewing her bottom lip avidly as her brow furrowed in concentration. His grip on his quill tightened at the sight, his dark eyes lingering over her swollen pink lip.

"Granger," Blaise whispered, leaning closer to the studious girl. "Granger."

"What?" Hermione hissed, meeting his dark eyes in evident annoyance.

"Where's O?" Blaise asked casually, as though he had not just interrupted her studies to ask an unnecessary question.

He didn't really care where his sister was that evening, but found that he wanted to chat to the Head Girl, if only for a moment. Perhaps even rile her up a little. She was at her most beautiful when angry.

Not that he cared, or anything. No. That would be preposterous.

Hermione quirked her brow as she stared at him for a moment before shaking her head and returning her gaze to her books. Blaise narrowed his dark eyes at her, her dismissal of him causing his jaw to clench tightly.

"I asked you a question, Granger." Blaise drawled, his tone laced with anger.

"Yes, you did." Hermione muttered, flipping the crisp page over in her textbook.

Blaise stood from the sofa, tossing his book on the coffee table as he glowered at Hermione.

"May I speak with you?" Blaise drawled, repeating the very same words that Hermione spoken had ten days ago. " _Alone_."

Hermione sighed impatiently as she rose from the sofa, following Blaise over to the corner of the room by the unused desks.

"What?" Hermione hissed, placing her hands on her hips as they stopped by the desks, Theo smirking as he eyed them from across the room.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Granger," Blaise drawled, placing his hands in his pockets. "But I do recall a conversation between us that essentially consisted of your request for civility whilst in our shared dwellings."

Hermione raised her chin slightly, her lips pursed.

"I asked you a simple, yet polite question," Blaise continued, his tone crisp. "Your response is non-existent, and quite ill-mannered. Was it not _you_ that requested we treat one another whilst in this common room with respect? Have I not adhered to your requests by the appropriate standards?"

Suddenly feeling like a child being reprimanded by a parent, Hermione frowned fleetingly before sighing in defeat. For Blaise was correct. He had definitely adhered to her requests for a mutual respect of one another within the Head dormitories. He had not brought any girls back to the area and entertained them in the space. Instead, he appeared to take up temporary residence in small broom closets within the castle. But at least it wasn't on the sofa that she sat on daily.

Furthermore, Blaise used the Head common room for little more than studying with his comrades. Another one of her demands. For Hermione certainly did not appreciate Blaise bringing his drunken friend, Draco Malfoy, into the common room where the blonde pureblood proceeded to insult Octavia with his invasive questions. But that hadn't happened since. So what did she really have to be angry about? Nothing that was justifiable.

Yet she couldn't help but harbour anger and disgust at the Head Boy for his prior compromising position with a fifth year girl. She was thoroughly revolted. Hermione also excused her anger by internally claiming that she was merely outraged by the behaviour of Blaise, considering his status as Head Boy.

She was partially correct in her justifications.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, Blaise quirking his brow in response.

"Fine …?" Blaise prompted, his dark eyes glinting with triumph.

"Fine, you are right." Hermione finished, before pressing her lips together. As though the action would prevent an actual apology from escaping her lips.

"So," Blaise drawled, eyeing her expectantly. "Where is O?"

Blaise did not really care where Octavia was that evening, he merely felt a sense of victory from Hermione's defeat and felt the need to … what's the expression? Oh, that's right. 'Rub it in.'

"She's at Potions Club," Hermione muttered. "Can I return to my homework now?"

Blaise clenched his jaw firmly, his eyes darkening for a moment before he inclined his head. Hermione turned and made her way back to her studies on the sofa, an evidently displeased Blaise at her heels. Displeased due to his sister's whereabouts.

For Blaise knew that Draco was head of the Potions Club, and suspected that it would only act as another avenue of torment for his unidentical twin. Providing Draco with yet another way of bullying her incessantly. Something that he had not done since she had slapped him almost two weeks ago.

But Blaise knew why he had yet to attack O over her use of violence and rejection. He was conflicted. And a conflicted Draco was hardly a gentle and kind Draco.

A concerning predicament.

The very reason for Blaise's snitching on his sister. For he suspected that the more reports his father received of Octavia's less than ladylike behaviour, the more likely it would be that they would transfer her to Beauxbatons, the French finishing school.

Thereby ensuring a safe distance between the volatile Draco and the vulnerable Octavia.

It was the only thing that Blaise could do to help his sister. So he did it.

Knowing that she would hate him even more for it. But he didn't care about that.

He cared for her safety and wellbeing.

* * *

Octavia stood alone at the chipped wooden desk, her feet shuffling nervously on the stone floor. When she had joined the Potions Club, it definitely wasn't to her knowledge that Draco ran the meetings. Little could be done about that dreadful fact now, though. Octavia had already informed her father of her acceptance into the club, and it maintained his amiable mood with her. If she decided to quit the club, he would be simply livid. It would hardly help her case to stay at Hogwarts.

So Octavia remained at the Potions Club meeting, despite the dreadful presence of Draco as he detailed the properties of moondust to the club members. An impressive thirty-seven students, making it only second to the Duelling Club in terms of popularity.

As it was a club and not an actual class, the students didn't take notes of what Draco was saying. Instead, they listened and attempted to commit the information to memory. A near impossible task for Octavia. Although the practical components of the meeting would assist Octavia. She was better with hands-on learning, as opposed to articulated information. But weren't most people? She assumed so.

Each student stood at their own table in the large classroom; a classroom that was used only for examinations and apparently the Potions Club. Slughorn sat at the desk facing the rest of the students, Draco reclining casually against said desk.

Her interest peaked as he removed the lid of the black, rusted cauldron on Slughorn's desk, the professor seemingly grading essays rather than actually supervise the meeting.

"Now, we are going to taste a drop of this potion," Draco drawled, the students hanging on his every word attentively. "I will allow each of you only ten seconds to determine the central ingredients to the potion."

Octavia wrung her hands together nervously as he scooped out the transparent liquid from the simmering cauldron and poured it into a gold goblet encrusted with rubies. She had no idea what the potion was, let alone its main ingredients. Did the other students know what the potion was? Had she missed something?

"I advise that you only take a minor drop of the potion, for any more than that and the effects will persist for longer than a minute." Draco announced, his tone crisp and cold.

Draco approached the desks on the left side of the classroom, the opposite side to which Octavia occupied. She watched, as did the majority of the others, as he presented the goblet to the students at each table and allowed them ten seconds to articulate their guesses. He didn't tell the students if they were correct in their answers. Instead, he either crossed or ticked next to their names on a clipboard that he carried with him.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only ten minutes, Draco approached her table. The majority of the club were chatting amongst themselves as they discussed their differing guesses, only a few Slytherins watching as Draco handed her the goblet.

Hesitantly, Octavia extended her shaky hand and tentatively removed the goblet from his grip, averting her hazel eyes from his cold gaze. Whilst he had not interacted – or bullied – her once since she slapped him ten days ago, Octavia remained almost crippled with fear by his presence.

Slowly, she brought the goblet up to her pink parted lips, Draco's stare fixed on the inviting features. Adhering to his earlier warning, Octavia only sipped a tiny bit of the potion before handing it back to Draco, his fingers brushing against hers ever so slightly as he removed it from her grasp.

Meeting his cold grey eyes, Octavia licked her lips before her face scrunched up in concentration, attempting to determine the ingredients from her inadequate sampling of the potion. As the vast majority of the students were distracted by their own chatter, only a few people noticed that Draco leaned over the desk, his face inching closer to Octavia's as his body towered over her petite frame.

"How many people have you slept with?" Draco asked coolly, his grey eyes mirroring his icy tone.

Octavia's eyes widened in surprise and offense as she gaped at him stupidly.

And then she shocked herself to her bloody core.

"None," Octavia answered automatically, unable to stop the word from escaping her plump lips.

Draco hummed lightly, his cold gaze regarding her as she struggled to understand the reason for her response.

"How many people have you kissed?"

Octavia whimpered in her struggle to press her lips together tightly, her face scrunched up in excruciating conversation as she attempted to stop the answer from escaping her.

She just couldn't stop herself.

"Only you," Octavia breathed, her hazel eyes alight with confusion and anger.

Draco didn't speak as he straightened himself, placing a large tick next to her name, but she didn't notice. She was in a daze at what had just transpired. Octavia gaped stupidly at him, her cheeks burning ferociously as she scolded herself.

What the fuck happened? Why did she even answer him?

Draco made to walk away but was stopped as Octavia hissed his name, her fury and embarrassment battling fiercely in her hazel eyes. He turned his attention back to her, his brow quirked as he regarded her with mild interest.

"You … you didn't ask me … the ingredients." Octavia scowled, finding that she couldn't find the bravery to scream at him like she wished to do.

"You think that you can accurately determine the ingredients?" Draco mocked, his tone cold.

Octavia bit her lip as she struggled to guess at least one ingredient in her mind, her brow furrowing as she blushed profusely.

"Let's make it a little easier for you," Draco conceded, placing his hand on the desk as he leaned closer to her again. "Name the potion."

Chewing her bottom lip thoroughly, Octavia frowned as she thought long and hard about the potion. Draco's cold and emotionless eyes fixed on her expression of concentration. It was difficult for her to focus whilst under his stare.

And then it hit her out of nowhere like a tonne of cauldrons.

"Veritaserum." Octavia answered, raising her nose importantly.

Slowly, Draco straightened his back, standing tall and straight once again as his icy eyes penetrated her sparkly hazel orbs. Grey locked with hazel as their gaze continued for a moment, but it felt like centuries. Centuries of horror and nightmares, to Octavia however. Draco gave one tiny, miniscule nod of the head before turning and moving to the adjacent desk, and student.

Leaving Octavia to her conflicting emotions at her own table. Pride soaring through her at correctly determining the overall potion. Self-loathing battling the pride at the cause of her correct assumption.

Without that truth-serum within her, Octavia would have never answered his invasive and improper questions. And now, she had.

Causing her to boil with mortification and wish only to flee that blasted club and never look back.

* * *

Professor Diggory removed the crumpled piece of parchment from Octavia's hand, smiling at the student as she shuffled her feet nervously. He had just been making his way to Professor Snape's office to discuss the progress of the Slytherin students in his classes before he bumped into Octavia in the corridors of the Slytherin dungeons. To say that he was pleasantly surprised to encounter Octavia would be an understatement, but he kept that to himself given the professionalism that his potion at Hogwarts demanded.

Although he couldn't help but smile at the nervous girl who stood before him, finding her anxious hazel eyes to be rather captivating.

"Uh, I looked at your notes and … worked really hard on it," Octavia mumbled, her cheeks tinged with a light shade of pink. "No one will tutor me … so it's not the greatest essay in the world … but … yeah."

The Professor offered a sympathetic smile as she zipped her bag closed and slung it over her shoulder before meeting his eyes once more.

"I am certain that the essay will be sufficient," Cedric smiled. "You should have a little more faith in yourself, Miss Zabini."

Octavia blushed profusely, reading way too much into his compliment as she bit her lip and gazed at him stupidly. She wasn't one to receive too many compliments since she had started her schooling at Hogwarts, so she practically swooned at the kind words of Professor Diggory. No matter how inappropriate her reaction was. Especially considering it the fact that her silly crush only seemed to increase with each kind word he spoke to her.

Neither Octavia nor Professor Diggory noticed that two students turned a corner, now walking directly toward them from the other end of the dim corridor; Lavender Brown and Draco Malfoy headed right toward them. The third time that day that the Slytherin and Gryffindor were seen together. Rumours were beginning to circulate.

Professor Diggory and Octavia gazed at one another for a moment, forgetting their differing positions at Hogwarts as their affections took over. Hesitantly, Cedric raised his hand toward Octavia's heart-shaped face and grazed his fingers down a loose curl that had escaped her high ponytail. Her face burned with shy blushing as Cedric removed his fingers from the tendril, a leaf now in his grasp.

"Oh," Octavia mumbled, her face as red as a tomato. "I … uh … was down at Hagrid's hut … checking out the new creatures for … my club …"

Cedric smiled as he dropped the small leaf onto the stony floor. Octavia's utter embarrassment at the fact that the leaf was in her hair – for Merlin knows how long – was palpable in her red face.

"What club?" Professor Diggory asked, smiling slightly.

"I uh … made a magical creatures club," Octavia murmured, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

"That's quite an achievement," Diggory praised. "What creatures are you focusing on?"

"Uh," Octavia stammered, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. "We're doing unicorns next."

Professor Diggory went to respond, but nearing heavy footsteps caught his attention, as well as Octavia's. Both turned their heads to the side, Octavia paling as Draco approached them, his stormy grey eyes alight with fury as he glowered at Octavia. She barely noticed the Gryffindor girl that bustled behind Draco, given the intensity of his furious stare. A stare that she hadn't received from him in close to two weeks. It seemed she wasn't escaping his wrath after all.

Holding her breath, Octavia shrank back against the course wall of the corridor as Draco neared them, his jaw clenched tightly as his molten grey eyes shifted to Professor Diggory. The Professor merely raised his chin and maintained eye-contact with Draco, not faltering in the slightest as the student walked passed, Octavia noticing that Draco was taller and musclier than Cedric.

Octavia's body tensed visibly, despite the proximity of a Professor, as Draco charged passed them, not looking back as he stormed down the corridor. Her face was swiftly graced with a scowl as Lavender Brown followed Draco, but not before sneaking a sneer at Octavia.

Octavia was almost taken aback by the sneer on Lavender's face. Whilst the two girls had never really been friends, they weren't enemies either. Well, as far as Octavia knew, anyway.

Professor Diggory and Octavia fixed their gazes on Draco's back as he continued down the corridor, a silence washing over them instantly. Octavia had no doubt in her mind that the anger which radiated from Draco's pores lingered behind encompassed them in an awkward silence.

Adding that to her current overwhelming anxiety at the shift in Draco's mood, it was safe to say that Octavia was no longer in the mood to be around anyone. In fact, all she wished to do in that moment was retreat to her dormitory and hide in her bed for the remainder of the night.

So without a single farewell word, Octavia turned and scurried down the corridor, leaving Professor Diggory to stand alone as he watched her hurried retreat. His sympathetic eyes fixed on her back as she fled to the safety of her dorm room.

His sympathetic eyes that glazed over slightly as they flicked down to her smooth, creamy legs.

* * *

Leaning back against the arm of the plush couch, Hermione bent her knees upwards, her book resting on her lap as she read with weary eyes. Sleep was calling for her, drawing her in with the promise of rest, but she didn't succumb. She forced her puffy eyes to remain open as she finished off the final chapter for Arithmancy. If she finished off the remaining eight pages of the final chapter of her assigned reading material, Hermione would have all required information to compose a numerical chart the following day. Therefore, allowing Hermione to delve into recreational reading as she would have then completed all assignments due for the following two weeks.

Although the endeavour was not without sacrifice. Her studious efforts had consumed the majority of her spare time over the past week, resulting in her increased weary state.

Hermione did not even dread going to sleep that night, knowing full well that her mind was so thoroughly exhausted that she would not suffer her frequent nightmares. In fact, she would bet her wand that her sleep would be deep and dreamless due to her exhaustion.

So engrossed in her reading material, Hermione did not even hear the creak of the portrait door, nor the muffled footsteps of Blaise Zabini as he entered from the castle corridors.

Blaise grinned widely as he spotted Hermione reading on the couch, the fire that was roaring when he left a few hours ago, now nothing but glowing embers with the occasional hiss and crackle. The dim orange light from the embers shone warmly over the muggle-born's face, illuminating her plump lips in the most delightful way. Her brown eyes shone spectacularly, reflecting the glow of the fire as she read intently. In the very same position as when Blaise had departed the common room, once completing the required homework assignments for that week.

He now knew why Hermione Granger had always bested his impressive grades over the years at Hogwarts. It appeared that she did nothing but study and learn, opting to avoid a social life at all costs.

The sleeves of his white school shirt were rolled halfway up his forearm, allowing him to flick his wrist and check the time on his watch. 2am.

"At times I wonder if you ever sleep," Blaise teased, Hermione's face snapping upwards, evidently startled by his announced arrival. "Surely you are not human."

Hermione didn't even attempt a response, given that she was taken aback by his dishevelled appearance. His shirt was misbuttoned and creased, messily tucked into his black trousers. Thick black hair, normally combed and perfectly in place, was now tousled, strands falling over his forehead, brushing against his brows. And his pink lips were swollen as they twisted into a wide-spread grin.

Three guesses what Blaise had been up to.

"Honestly, Granger," Blaise grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stepped toward the sofa she occupied. "It is two in the morning. Have you nothing better to do?"

"It appears that you are correct," Hermione smiled politely, glancing at the grandfather clock to confirm his assessment. "It _is_ two in the morning. Meaning that you were out past curfew."

If possible, Blaise's grin widened as he waited for the inevitable.

"Twenty points from Slytherin for being out past curfew." Hermione declared, a triumphant glint in her marvellous brown eyes.

"I could have been on patrol," Blaise shrugged, moving to sit on the arm of a nearby armchair.

Emitting an indelicate scoff, Hermione returned her gaze to her book, ignoring him entirely. She knew the patrol schedule like the back of her hand, given that she co-constructed it with the serpent himself. Something that they were both aware of, making Hermione fully aware that he was merely attempting to tease her.

"My untidy appearance gives me away, yes?" Blaise sighed, feigning defeat as he stared down at his unkempt clothes.

"Yes, it does." Hermione muttered, flicking her eyes back to the tanned Slytherin.

Intentionally, Hermione dragged her judgemental brown eyes up and down his body slowly, reeking with distaste as she pursed her lips. Blaise only wiggled his brows in response.

"Like what you see, Granger?" Blaise teased, pushing himself from the armrest.

"Hardly," Hermione quipped, watching as he approached her leisurely.

Blaise smirked, coming to a complete stop beside her, placing his hand on the back of the sofa as he leaned forward, Hermione shrinking back from him slightly. To mirror her previous actions, Blaise's eyes draped over her curled up body slowly, his stare hardly screaming distaste. In fact, it was rather suggestive, causing Hermione to glower at him, her upper lip curling.

"You know," Blaise drawled, his dark eyes lingering over her bare knees before flicking up to meet her stare. "I would not be averse to assisting you in … _destressing_ , should you ever decide to remove the stick from your arse."

"And sully yourself with a filthy mudblood?" Hermione snapped, slamming her book shut as he quirked his brow.

"Consider it a charitable offer," Blaise smirked, winking at the flushed and enraged muggle-born. "Mudbloods need attention too."

Hermione gripped her book tightly before raising it quickly and whacking it against his chest. Blaise only laughed, straightening himself as she flew up from the sofa and barged past him, the fury radiating from her every pore.

He watched with a wicked smirk as she stormed through the common room, and bursting into her bedroom, the door slamming shut loudly behind her.

"You know where I am, should you change your mind!" Blaise shouted, chuckling as a shriek sounded out from her closed door, accompanied by a crash or two.

Evidently hexing her belongings in a fit of rage.


	10. Chapter 10

Octavia rolled her eyes as Hermione began to set up the cauldron between them, obviously making a point of busying herself with setting the flames beneath the black pot to the exact temperature. Meaning that a put-out Octavia was left to collect the potion supplies from the cupboard at the other end of the classroom. It wasn't that she minded fetching their ingredients, despite it resembling servant duties. It was more that venturing into the large cupboard would provide other students with the opportunity to hex her if she found herself so unlucky to be a target that day.

Whilst there was no indication of students targeting her that particular day, her passing encounter with Draco a few days before had her on edge. He had yet to act on his palpable anger that radiated from him that night in the Slytherin corridors. But that hardly meant, in her experience, that something wasn't coming her way. So she attempted to avoid all situations that the Slytherin Prince would see as an opportunity.

An opportunity such as Octavia making her way to the supply cupboard alone.

Thankfully, she had delayed the excursion to the cupboard long enough that most other students had already retrieved the required supplies. While it meant that she and her partner would be a little late in starting their potion compared to the others in class, it was worth the tardiness. Although Hermione would hardly agree.

Slipping through the ajar door to the cupboard, Octavia grabbed a tray from the nearby shelf as she sighed in relief. The cupboard was fortunately vacant, much to her liking. Humming atrociously, Octavia tottered through the shelves as she began to collect the required ingredients leisurely. She wasn't in any hurry to start brewing Euphoric Elixir. The potion had no real purpose, in her opinion. For the effects, while grand, were false. It wasn't real. The happiness it induced was fake. So, to Octavia, the potion was generally a waste of time and resources.

Satisfied that she had collected all required ingredients, Octavia continued to hum as she turned around and went to exit the cluttered cupboard. That is, until the tray she held in her hands connected with a solid chest. Draco's chest.

Inhaling sharply, Octavia froze in place, her wide hazel eyes gazing up at the stoic pureblood before her, his fierce stare penetrating her fucking soul. Her heart raced wildly in her chest as Draco took one determined step toward her, Octavia stumbling back as he did. She was never more grateful for the tray of potions ingredients in her life, the tray essentially preventing Draco from closing in on her. But it didn't stop him, apparently. He continued to step toward her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as she stumbled back, only stopping when her back made contact with a wooden shelf.

The ingredients and small vials on the tray began to rattle noisily as her hands trembled, Draco placing one hand on the shelf behind her, his body towering over hers. He was only a head taller than her when she wore her stilettos, but she felt as miniscule as a grain of moondust before him.

Icy grey eyes held her rooted to the spot, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, almost deafening her. It was all she heard; her rapid heartbeat. She was so horribly transfixed by his piercing grey eyes that she didn't notice that his hand raised slightly, his fingers removing a single strand of hair from her cardigan sleeve. Nor did she notice that he discreetly pocketed the blonde curl, for his eyes penetrated hers severely.

Her lips formed into a pout as his hands gripped the tray in her hold and removed it, the warning glint in his eyes ensuring that she didn't resist. Smirking cruelly, Draco took the tray from her before he turned and stalked out of the supply cupboard, leaving a shaky and scowling Octavia to regather the required ingredients for her potion.

But it didn't escape her notice that she got off rather lightly, considering his evident punishing mood. In fact, Octavia was rather relieved that he had only taken her tray of ingredients rather than hexing her into oblivion like he usually did. Well, like he did before _that_ night. The night when he attempted to kiss her.

The night when she slapped Draco Malfoy. An act that she was still anxiously awaiting punishment for. A punishment that she was sure would come. In time. For Draco Malfoy was a cruel and evil git with a flair for torment.

Particularly when it came to her.

* * *

Hermione stood importantly in front of the desk, facing the eight seated Prefects before her. Blaise, however, reclined casually against the desk as he nonchalantly inspected his perfectly manicured nails, seemingly not paying any interest to the meeting taking place. Hermione pressed her lips together as she gripped the clipboard in her hand, prepared to commence the meeting. Although Blaise's annoyingly close proximity made her attempt to concentrate just a tad difficult. Particularly as his thigh almost touched hers. It might as well be touching hers. She could almost feel the contact of their limbs, causing a pink twinge on her cheeks to appear.

"I've posted the patrol schedule on the wall," Hermione began, inclining her head to the parchment nailed to the left wall. "If anyone wants to trade or is unable to commit to their patrol nights, it has to be run by either myself or the Head Boy first."

"I have a name, you know." Blaise drawled, his dark eyes fixed on his nails as some of the Prefects – particularly the Slytherins – snickered at his words.

Ignoring him, Hermione raised her chin importantly as she stared warningly at the sniggering Prefects. All of whom immediately fell into a patient silence.

"We have had reports of Peeves wreaking havoc on the second floor for the past three nights in a row," Hermione continued, her tone stern. "He has been upsetting Moaning Myrtle again, so the second floor corridor is flooded. Filch is working on fixing the taps that Myrtle broke in her latest fit."

The Prefects groaned in annoyance at the information, not a single one of them prepared to take on Moaning Myrtle or the blasted poltergeist, Peeves. Neither ever listened to any of the Prefects of Heads, so they were challenging to manage at the best of times. Normally it just meant that the Prefects on duty would find themselves fastened to a chandelier somewhere in the castle for hours upon end. Rather bothersome.

"Finally," Hermione declared. "Please make sure that during your patrols you check every room on the fifth floor. Particularly the Charms corridor."

Most of the Prefects grinned, a few nudging each other suggestively. The fifth floor was notorious for licentious activities to take place in the classrooms and supply cupboards. Especially the Charms corridor that was mostly abandoned after hours, given that no faculty offices occupied the corridor or any adjacent ones.

"Yes," Blaise smirked, flicking his mischievous dark eyes to Hermione. "Ensure that no canoodling is going on in that corridor during your patrols, please."

Hermione scowled at the Head Boy, both of them very well aware that Hermione had caught Blaise in a compromising position in that very same corridor a mere week ago. And once more since then.

"If any students are discovered in that corridor, participating in any indecent behaviour," Hermione announced, her narrowed eyes on Blaise as he wiggled his brows, "please report the students to their Head of House immediately."

Blaise grinned widely, knowing that no one would dare snitch on him if he were caught again. And he would definitely be caught again. In fact, he ensured that he occupied that corridor with a random girl on the very nights that the Head Girl patrolled. He just found her indignation to be so … delicious.

Too much fun was had in riling her up. He would continue to entertain himself in such ways. Even if it meant that he rarely had the chance to actually fuck the girls he brought up there with him. It was an easy decision for Blaise.

He had so much more fun pissing off Granger than actually fucking a nameless whore.

An easy decision indeed.

* * *

Moseying down the grand staircase, Luna sang pleasantly to herself, completely oblivious to the snickers of her fellow students. Or perhaps she didn't mind that they mocked her so obviously. Perhaps she was merely used to it, or just didn't care.

As Luna strolled leisurely down the staircase, her sparkly blue eyes fixed on the group of Slytherins in the atrium of the castle. In particular, the Slytherin that was always kind to her. Theodore Nott. But he wasn't kind in that moment, she observed grimly.

A third year Gryffindor, who she believed to be Colin Creevey, was blasted through the foyer, colliding horribly with the cloudy, marble floors. The spell was evidently issued by the grinning Theo, his lackeys guffawing loudly as the young boy attempted to get to his feet. An attempt that was unsuccessful as Theo fired another jinx right at him, causing Colin to puke slimy flobberworms all over the floor. Everyone appeared to be laughing at the poor boy's expense.

Everyone except Luna, that is.

Luna's blue eyes dimmed with disapproval as she watched Theo bully the boy for a moment, before deciding to intervene. No one else appeared to have the gall to stop the tormenting of the young boy, not even his fellow Gryffindors. Some students from the House of Lions laughed, while others just ignored the scene and made their way into the Great Hall for dinner. The ones who ignored it, in Luna's opinion, were the worst.

Skipping down the remainder of the steps, Luna approached the boy who was doubled- over on the marble floor, puking horrendously. She dropped to her knees beside Colin and waved her wand, removing the jinx from him instantly. Her blue eyes moved to the momentarily stunned Theo, her disapproving gaze causing him to appear ashamed. The spectators and bystanders watched in complete silence as the Loony Ravenclaw intervened, Theo not doing a thing about it. When normally, Theo would hex the Good Samaritan right into the Chamber of Secrets.

Goyle, standing beside Theo, grinned cruelly as he raised his wand, aiming it directly at Luna as she set to collecting the Gryffindor boy's books from the floor. The Gryffindor boy who was still attempting to catch his breath in order to express his gratitude to Luna.

"Come to play, Loony Lovegood?" Goyle teased, his deep and malicious voice resounding through the atrium.

Theo placed his hand over Goyle's extended arm, the action causing Goyle to scowl as he lowered his wand reluctantly. Luna noticed, but wasn't exactly grateful of Theo preventing the attack on her. For Theo should have never assaulted the boy in the first place.

Colin muttered a thanks after successfully regaining his steady breathing, Luna smiling softly at him in response.

"Colin, is it?" Luna asked, her voice sweet and pleasant.

"Yeah," the nerdy boy mumbled, retrieving the books from Luna's hands.

"I'm Luna," she introduced, smiling sweetly.

"I know," Colin nodded, his head bowed low as though the act would shield him from further torment. "Thanks."

Most of the students grew bored, having realised that there would be no more entertainment in the foyer for them now. The crowd around them dispersed, even some of the Slytherins retreated to the Great Hall. Except Theo who decided to approach the blonde Ravenclaw, extending his hand to assist her to her feet.

An offer that Luna ignored.

Instead, Luna helped Colin to his feet, not even glancing at Theo as she led the boy into the safety of the Great Hall.

Theo watched her go, his jaw clenched tightly as he ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't know why he cared so much about her approval of him. Yes, he had a soft spot for the girl, finding her odd personality to be rather endearing. However, it mattered naught. For nothing would ever come from his affections for the girl. His loyalties to his pureblood lineage would prevent him from entering into an intimate relationship of any kind with the girl.

But when she evidently disapproved of his actions, he was entirely submerged in shame.

* * *

Pulling up her white cotton undies, Octavia shimmied around on the spot as the rumbling of the toilet flushing sounded out around her. She always hated the sound of a toilet flushing, due to Blaise's teasing during their childhood. He had always taunted her by swearing that Goblins lived beneath the toilet, and the loud sound of the flush was actually the creatures attempting to crawl through the pipes. Of course, she did not believe that nonsense anymore. Yet, she always hurried to escape the toilet before the Goblins could catch her … Just in case.

However, instead of fleeing the cubicle as quickly as possible, like she usually would have done, Octavia stopped dead in her tracks, her fingers grasping the door handle as she heard others enter the bathroom. The second floor bathroom that Moaning Myrtle had a tendency to flood. And due to the ghost and her tantrums, most students avoided this particular bathroom. Making it a prime spot of privacy for Octavia.

Privacy that she felt in that moment was intruded upon, the high-pitched voices of other girls penetrating the otherwise quiet bathroom.

That was not the reason for Octavia's halt in exiting the cubicle, however. She remained hidden in the cubicle as her name was spoken by one of the girls.

"Isn't he engaged to Octavia Zabini?" One girl asked, O not recognising her voice in the slightest.

"Draco Malfoy engaged to a squib?" A shrill voice mocked, Octavia recognising it to belong to Lavender Brown. "No way."

"Yeah, but does it matter that she's a squib really? Her blood is ancient and pure."

"So is mine," Lavender murmured, Octavia barely hearing her response.

"Not really. You're great, great grandmother was a half-blood." The other girl countered, Octavia assuming that the voice belonged to Lavender's counterpart; Parvati Patil. "So it's not pure enough for someone like Malfoy."

"I don't think he cares about that. He's always making time for me and he hasn't been sleeping with anyone else. We might as well be official, the way he's carrying on."

"Yeah, well he's officially engaged to Octavia."

"No he's not. I think he's betrothed to one of the Greengrass girls, but I have the entire year to fix that."

"You think he would choose you over a pureblood princess?" Parvati asked, her tone drenched in disbelief.

"Not yet, maybe. But … well, like I said; he's only dating me."

"Fucking. He's only _fucking_ you."

"And to someone like Draco Malfoy, that's a pretty big deal. That's monogamy. The first step."

"I think you're crazy," Parvati laughed. "He's as racist as they come, so your blood _does_ matter to him. Even if he doesn't show it, it matters. He'll never choose you."

"Thanks for the support," Lavender spat bitterly.

"I'm just saying that … well, it's Draco Malfoy. He's racist, wealthy and all about connections and stuff."

"So?"

"So, you're not really that well connected, are you? And you're family isn't exactly rich."

"We're not poor, either." Lavender hissed, Octavia listening intently.

"You're poor by his standards."

"Maybe that doesn't matter to him … I think he's falling for me."

"Why? Because he's fucking you in every broom closet every chance he gets?"

"Well … _yeah!_ "

"He's a guy," Parvati laughed. "That's hardly love. That's just sex, Lav."

"You don't get it. He's … loving when we're doing it sometimes."

Parvati – or Octavia assumed it to be Parvati, at least – burst into a fit of giggles at her friend's expense, as one of the girls began to wash their hands or something.

"He is!" Lavender snapped, Octavia straining to hear the girls over the running faucet. "He like … touches my hair and he's gentle."

"Ok, let's say he _is_ falling for you."

"He is."

"Whatever." Parvati sighed. "If he is, what then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, has he invited you to their banquets?"

"What banquets?"

"The ones that the purebloods have every year. Well, the rich ones anyway. And they all meet and their parents discuss marriage arrangements and stuff. It's like part of their courting rituals or something."

"I …"

"He hasn't even told you about that?" Parvati laughed. "And you think he's falling for you?"

"Well when do they have them?"

"Christmas, I think. And then after graduations, every year."

"How do you know all this?"

"Mum used to go to them before she was exiled for marrying dad."

"Oh, 'cause he's a muggle?"

"Yeah."

"Well, no." Lavender sighed. "He hasn't invited me to their banquets, or whatever. But you said they're at Christmas, and that's three months away. We've only been dating for two weeks."

"Dating?" Parvati giggled. "You're so delusional! Has he ever taken you on a date? And the supply closets don't count!"

"Not yet. But like I said, it's only been two weeks."

"Whatever," Parvati laughed, the faucet turning off. "Come on, I don't wanna be late to dinner."

Octavia remained still and quiet in the toilet stall, waiting until the girls exited the bathroom. While she did not like Lavender, after the dirty look she had received from the Gryffindor, Octavia felt a flicker of pity for the girl. Draco would never choose her. For Lavender's 'tainted' blood mattered. To Draco, at least.

Although it was rather strange that Draco was conveying a semblance of fidelity with the girl. Perhaps he was falling for her? Even so, he would never choose Lavender.

Draco would choose blood, money and power. For that is everything that Draco Malfoy incorporated. That is what he was. All he knew.

Dismissing her sympathy for Lavender with a shrug, Octavia opted to forget the issue. Why should she care if Lavender wanted to pine after a man that would never chose her? She didn't. For Octavia's situation was much worse, in her opinion.

Octavia would be arranged to marry a man that she did not know, and spend the remainder of her life as the perfect pureblood wife. Submissive, obedient and faithful. While her husband would be free to do whatever – and whomever – he pleased, all the while maintaining a short leash on her. When her husband says jump, she would do so without question. As a pureblood wife, she would have no voice. Unless she was lucky, and found love in her marriage.

Like her parents had.

In their case, arranged marriages were a positive thing indeed. They had both been betrothed to others. Her father, due to his wealth, had been contracted to marry a pureblood woman of similar wealth. Her mother's family hardly compared to Leonardo Zabini's wealth. But it mattered naught. Leonardo Zabini, after encountering his mother several times in the homeland (Italy), made an offer on her. An offer that was accepted instantly, and they were wed three months later.

A happy arrangement for them both. For her mother and father were deeply in love, and shared a mutual respect.

Octavia only wished that she would be so lucky.

* * *

Peeves soared and cackled through the dim corridors, Octavia scurrying out of the second floor bathroom hastily. Thankfully, Peeves appeared to be haunting a nearby corridor, presenting Octavia with the opportunity to flee the second floor before he spotted his potential target. Or so she thought.

Clutching her textbooks to her chest, Octavia scrambled through the seemingly never-ending corridor as the poltergeist's cackles echoed around her. The smacking of her heels were muffled by the runner rug that lined the course ground as she approached the end of the corridor. The part of the corridor that contained classrooms and Professor Diggory's office.

A squeal escaped Octavia as the rug was suddenly yanked from beneath her, Peeves gripping the end of it as he soared down the corridor in the opposite direction. Literally pulling the rug out from under her. Losing her balance, Octavia's books went flying in the air as she tumbled over, hitting the harsh floor with an audible thud and shout.

"Ordinary Octavia!" Peeves chanted as he soared and whizzed around the corridor. "Ordinary Octavia!"

Octavia was far too distracted by the pain of her collision to even grow upset over Peeves' mocking words, instead opting to cradle her bloodied and injured leg against her chest as she winced.

Using the sleeve of her cardigan to wipe at the tears that streamed down her face, Octavia sniffed loudly as the door next to her opened quickly. The occupant of the office having clearly heard her shout and cries.

Her face scrunched up as she cried silently, Professor Diggory standing at the doorway to his office, his eyes finding her instantly. He didn't speak, but he swiftly stepped toward her, dropping to his knee as he assessed the cut on her leg whilst pursing his lips.

"Cedric and the Squib sitting in a tree," Peeves sang mockingly as he soared up and down the corridor. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Peeves!" The Professor scolded, his jaw clenched as the poltergeist cackled loudly. "If you continue to haunt this corridor, I will have no choice but to retrieve the Bloody Barron."

Peeves sneered at the Professor before turning and soaring through a stone wall, Octavia scowling at the retreating nuisance. It was common knowledge that Peeves was rather frightened of the Slytherin House ghost, for reasons unknown. Perhaps it was because of the silvery blood that coated the ghost? Octavia didn't know.

"Come on," Cedric sighed, wrapping an arm around the snivelling student to help her to her feet.

Cedric waved his wand once to levitate her books, his lips pressed together as his eyes shone with concern. Octavia sniffed loudly as she leaned on the Professor for balance, her sore knee trickling with blood as her books began to float in the air. Professor Diggory tucked his wand back into his trousers as he assisted Octavia, supporting her as she hopped beside him into his office.

Octavia grimaced as she hobbled beside the Professor, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist as he supported her weight. Her knee wasn't incredibly sore, but the blood is what had Octavia grimacing. She had a weak stomach when it came to the crimson liquid. Professor Diggory helped her approach his parchment-covered desk, a few floating candles providing some light to the otherwise dim office. She leaned against the desk as he untangled himself from her, setting to shifting the parchment – evidently submitted homework assignments – to clear a space for her.

Octavia didn't need his prompt or assistance to hop up onto the desk, her legs dangling over the edge as he turned and strolled over to a cabinet without a word. Her hazel eyes watched his every move, the silence between them incredibly thick and awkward as her books floated to his chair and placed down delicately. Her gaze remained on the handsome Professor as he turned from the cabinet and made his way back over to her, a glass jar in his hand. A salve, she recognised instantly. Similar to the salve that she kept under her pillow at all times for occasions such as this. Occasions when she found herself injured from unwarranted assaults.

Nervously, her hands gripped the edge of the table as the Professor approached her, his brown eyes portraying the same as hers; apprehension. They both knew that it would be more appropriate for Octavia to seek treatment for her wounds in the infirmary with Madame Pomphrey. But neither spoke of that. They both remained silent as the Professor unscrewed the lid from the jar and dipped his finger into the white substance, gathering a little of the salve on his fingers.

Her breath hitched, biting her bottom lip as his long fingers gingerly spread the healing paste onto her cut knee. Each touch sent jolts of electricity through her body delightfully, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Her hazel orbs locked onto his handsome face as he appeared to concentrate on the delicate movements of his fingers. But Octavia saw the slight twinge of pink that graced his cheeks. Good. It made her feel better about the fierce blush that spread over her features. Unconsciously, her tongue flicked over her plump lips as her grip tightened on the table, her feet fidgeting slightly. Her wound healed, transforming into a scab as the area tingled from the healing salve.

But Professor Diggory was not finished apparently.

Octavia watched intently as he removed a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and set to wiping away the blood from her wound gently. He didn't have to do that. He could have just _scrougify'd_ the blood away from her leg, she knew. But she didn't say anything. She was thoroughly enjoying his gentle touches to her knee, her body alight with desire with each gentle wipe. Noticing how his thumb would brush ever so slightly against her skin, seemingly by accident.

"There," Professor Diggory said as he tossed the handkerchief on the desk.

Octavia pouted slightly, evidently displeased that he had now finished caring to her wounds. She had found it to be rather enjoyable.

Her crimson blush remained on her exceptionally pretty face as she jumped off the desk, her body almost grazing against the Professor's. Tilting her head up to face him, Octavia smiled bashfully as his eyes flicked to her pink lips.

"Thank you," Octavia smiled, her sparkling hazel eyes gazing up at the Professor.

The Professor whom appeared to be momentarily entranced by her lips before he frowned and met her stare. Her eyes widened slightly as his face inched toward hers hesitantly, before he stopped himself.

"I think it is best that you retire to your dormitory now, Miss Zabini," Professor Diggory advised, his professional tone back in place.

But he didn't move away from her. His body remained a mere inch from hers as she leaned back against the desk, her hazel eyes locked with his brown orbs.

Throwing caution and all sense of proper behaviour to the wind, Octavia leaned up on her tip-toes to close the distance between their faces and pressed her lips gently against his. Neither moved.

They both froze at the contact. Their lips tingled as they connected, but remained perfectly still.

Both Professor and student were entirely motionless from the shock of what had transpired. Both battling internally at what to do. Frozen in place for what seemed like an eternity.

Professor Diggory decided on a course of action before Octavia could even properly scold herself for her actions.

A whimper escaped her lips as his hand gently cupped her cheek, his lips pressing firmly against hers. Initiating.

Slowly, their lips parted against one another's, their tongues meeting tenderly. Octavia melted against him, placing her palms against his solid chest as his thumb brushed over her cheek gently.

Having only ever kissed Draco before – and it was hardly the kind with tongues – Octavia began to fret over her skills. Was she doing it right? Was it too soft and slow? Did she have bad breath?

But her doubts were washed away in a split second as Diggory's body pressed up against hers, trapping her between him and the desk. His lips pressed further against hers as his tongue delved into her sweet mouth, massaging her tongue gently.

Octavia moaned softly into his mouth as their tongues danced together, her hands gripping onto his shirt as she arched against him. They continued to kiss for a moment, but it felt like forever and a bit to Octavia. A blissful eternity. But unlike an eternity, their kiss had to end at some point. Much too soon in Octavia's opinion.

For the moment their lips parted and the Professor rested his forehead against hers, reality came crashing down on them both without mercy. But their realities were vastly different to each other's.

Octavia was merely saddened by the sudden realisation that nothing could come of this. Her infatuation with the Professor, while inappropriate, would not be allowed to grow or blossom. They could continue to kiss and flirt. They could even fall in love with one another. But it was all for naught. For the moment that Octavia graduated, she would be betrothed to another and be taken away from the man she craved.

Cedric's reality was not quite the same. He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against his student's, as he scolded himself internally. He should never have allowed the kiss to occur. And whilst Octavia was the one who initiated the kiss, he knew that she would not have done so if he had not _invited_ the kiss. Which he did. He knew it. And now he jeopardised his position at Hogwarts by fraternising with a student.

Not just any student at that. Octavia Zabini; heiress to one of the wealthiest and most respected pureblood families in Britain. A pureblood family that would not stand for his affections for Octavia. A pureblood family that would undoubtedly destroy his career for what had just transpired. If they discovered the truth, that is.

He hoped they didn't. He was sure that Octavia would not inform them of their kiss. But that did not guarantee that nobody would find out.

A frightening thought to Cedric. For he had worked so hard and diligently to acquire his position at Hogwarts upon graduating from the school. It was the beginning to his journey to restore honour to his family name. Honour that had been stripped by the incarceration of his innocent mother. His mother who was imperiused during the first Wizarding War. His mother who remained locked away in the depths of Azkaban, suffering for acts that she did not commit. Not knowingly, at least.

"I think that you should leave," Cedric sighed, taking a step back from the dazed student.

Octavia nodded weakly, averting her eyes from the evidently regretful Professor. Neither spoke as she collected her books from the table. Neither uttered a word as she moseyed out of the office, evidently reluctant in her departure. As was Cedric. He did not wish for her to leave. Not really. But she had to, and he had no other choice but to allow her departure.

So he watched her go, his longing eyes fixed on her back as she slipped through the doorway. His heart clenching as the door shut tight behind her.

What had he done?


	11. Chapter 11

Rifling through the curious books with interest, Octavia's eyes were alight with enthrallment. She had never ventured to the muggle section of Tomes and Scrolls in the Hogsmeade village before. But she couldn't understand for the life of her why not. It was utterly fascinating.

Hermione had dragged her to the small shelves at the back corner of the bookstore upon arrival to browse. At first, Octavia was rather reluctant. She tended to prefer reading only when absolutely necessary, say for an assignment or the like. Her reluctance disappeared quickly however, as she spotted the dozen or so books dedicated to muggle fashionwear.

Grabbing the largest book, Octavia grunted as she hauled it from the shelf and pulled the heavy tome against her chest. 'Style through the Ages', it read. The blurb explained that the book detailed each decade's primary fashionable attire, with extra emphasis and attention to the current decade. Interesting. The cost of the tome was hardly expensive, so that was not reason for Octavia's hesitance to purchase it.

If her mother or father were to discover her increased interest in the muggle world, they would be rather displeased. Perhaps they would interpret her interest as an indication to send her off into the muggle world? She did not want that. Octavia was quite content to remain in the magical world, with her family, where she belonged. Despite her lack of magical abilities.

She merely harboured a flame of intrigue regarding the muggle world. They just did things so differently to the world she knew. Ninny had said that they do not enter into arranged marriages in the vast majority of the muggle world. That women were allowed to select their own suitors, or none if they so wished. Women were able to have careers, instead of children. Not that Octavia wanted a career or anything. She was just fascinated by the thought of … what is it? Freedom?

Yes. That's it. Freedom.

Something that Octavia did not have. Something that the entire contents of her Gringott's vault could not purchase.

Freedom.

Debating on her potential purchase, Octavia flipped open the book to the last chapter, her glistening hazel eyes scanning the page interestedly. Her gaze rested on an image of a pretty model, the girl turning and exhibiting the muggle clothes in an endless cycle. So the book was made in the wizarding world, Octavia realised, given that the pictures moved. Perhaps that would alleviate her parents' potential distress should they ever discover the book in her bedroom one day.

"Ninny!" Octavia sang, her eyes still fixed on the photograph. "Ninny, come here!"

"What is it, O?" Hermione sighed, appearing out of nowhere.

"What's that?" Octavia frowned, eyeing the pants that the model adored.

"The trousers?" Hermione quizzed. "They're jeans. Trousers made out of denim."

"Denim," Octavia echoed, the word unfamiliar on her tongue.

"I wear jeans," Hermione informed, smiling at her fascinated friend. "The blue trousers, remember?"

"Oh," Octavia scrunched up her face. "Those are ghastly. They look nothing like the denim in the picture."

"Because the _jeans_ in the picture are Gucci." Hermione sassed. "They're designer and very expensive."

"But they look nothing like your trousers at all!" Octavia exclaimed, her confusion evident.

"Different styles," Hermione sighed. "It's like … dresses. Even though two dresses might be made from satin, they can look completely different."

"Ohhh," Octavia sang, understanding now due to Hermione speaking her language. "I see. So you chose the uglier denim?"

"Stop saying 'denim'," Hermione snapped. "They're called 'jeans'. Denim is the material."

Octavia raised her eyebrows, glancing at her irritated friend.

"Ok, then." Octavia said slowly. "Well, why don't you own _jeans_ like these ones?"

"They're expensive, and too revealing for my taste," Hermione responded coolly.

"Revealing?" O scoffed, glancing back at the jeans.

"Yes, they're far too tight." Hermione continued, an air of judgement surrounding her. "And the waistline is too low. They're called 'skinny jeans'."

"Well, I like them." Octavia murmured, slamming the book shut and clutching it to her chest.

Octavia stomped off toward the cashier to purchase the tome, eager to delve into it the first chance she got and observe more attire. Perhaps she would like other muggle clothes? Not that it really mattered, anyway. It would be highly improper of her to adorn such attire. But … there was no harm in looking at the pictures, right?

Right.

* * *

Sitting outside in the sun, Octavia smiled as the warmth of the summer weather washed over her. She and the others sat at the circular tables out the front of the Three Broomsticks. The atmosphere of the village street was alight with excitement due to the Quidditch match that was to take place that afternoon. The Quidditch match that Octavia would not be attending, as always. It wasn't a particularly fascinating sport, according to the wizard-born, and that was only added to the fact that she could not participate even if she wished to.

For no broomstick would respond to her lack of magic.

A shimmer of envy tingled through her at the thought, her pretty face contorting into a fleeting scowl. Given that she was afraid of heights, Octavia didn't exactly _want_ to play Quidditch or have a broomstick respond to her. But she didn't like that others were able to do things that she could not. It seemed unfair.

Fiddling with the long sleeves of her baby pink dress, Octavia offered a smile of gratitude to the waitress that placed a tray of butterbeers on the table. Hermione and Luna remained in their one-sided conversation about Nargles and how to effectively ward them off, Octavia tuning the nonsense out as she retrieved a bottle from the tray.

The very reason for Octavia adorning the backless, short dress walked down the path with his fellow professors. Tucking a loose curl behind her ear, Octavia's hazel eyes remained on Professor Diggory as he chatted enthusiastically with Slughorn about something or other. Octavia didn't really care what they were discussing. She only cared that he noticed her dress. Noticed her.

For Professor Diggory had expertly ignored Octavia since their kiss one week ago. He rarely made eye-contact with her in class anymore, even when she raised her hand to answer questions issued to the students. He didn't watch her in the Great Hall anymore, to her knowledge. And he had given her an 'Acceptable' grade for her essay, meaning that there was no need for them to convene to discuss the poor assignment.

While she didn't exactly go out of her way to speak to the now-silent Professor, she watched him whenever he was around. Just waiting for him to meet her stare. He never did. Not anymore.

Had she really been that terrible of a kisser? She hadn't thought he would mind about her lack of skills in that department, but she doubted that now. Perhaps it was only her paranoia, though. Maybe he just wasn't interested in her, like she was him. Maybe, just maybe, she had imagined his interest in her and took it a step too far.

Again, Diggory didn't even meet her persistent gaze as he walked by with his fellow professors, and disappeared into the pub. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, her dimmed hazel eyes fixing on the chipped table before her as she slumped slightly.

In that moment, all she wanted to do was spill every detail to Hermione and Luna. It almost physically pained her to keep such a secret from them. But if Hermione knew that Octavia had kissed a professor, who knew what would happen? Ninny was Octavia's friend, through and through. She was loyal and protective. But she was also a stickler for the rules. So Octavia didn't want to discover Hermione's reaction to her fraternising with the professor.

Luna, on the other hand, would be much more understanding. But it hardly felt right to tell Luna and not Hermione. In saying that, Octavia wasn't really interested in Luna's advice. Undoubtedly, it would only consist of irrelevant ramblings about non-existent creatures. And Octavia didn't have the patience for that when it came to her current predicament.

Of course, she could always just forget about her kiss with the professor. Her first kiss. She could put it down to a 'moment' that they had shared, and nothing more. She could – and should – forget about it and move on. But, somehow, it was almost all she could think about. It was what she dreamt about. The arousal that coursed through her as his tongue swept over hers. The tingling in her toes and fingers as his body pressed against hers. The desire pooling in her core as his erection nudged against her.

Heaving a sigh, Octavia yanked herself from the memory, forcing her attention to return to her friends as Ron and Harry joined them at the table.

"Shouldn't you be at practice?" Hermione asked as Ron immediately picked at her fries.

"We've been practicing all morning," Harry sighed, the weariness evident in his tired green eyes. "The Slytherins booked the pitch for the rest of the day before the game."

"You guys coming to the game?" Ron asked through a mouthful of fries.

"Nope," Hermione answered as Octavia shook her head.

"Oh, come on!" Harry complained, reclining in his chair as he raised his hands in the air. "It's the first game of the year. Slytherin verses Gryffindor. You have to come!"

"I have homework," Octavia shrugged, her feet shuffling automatically as the lie escaped her lips.

In reality, Octavia planned on hanging out in the common room during the match. Although she did actually have homework to do … Not that she'd do it, or anything.

"If we win, you _have_ to come to the party though," Harry offered a compromise, his green eyes flickering between the three girls hopefully.

Hermione appeared to consider it for a moment before relenting.

"If Gryffindor win, I'll come." Hermione agreed, Luna nodding.

"What about you, O?" Harry pressed.

"I dunno," Octavia mumbled. "I'll just go back to my dorms or something."

"You'd rather go back to the Slytherin dorms after they lose? After Draco Malfoy, the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, loses?" Ron laughed.

"Oh," Octavia frowned, as though just realising the dangers of the potential outcome.

"Come on," Harry persuaded. "You never come to the parties."

"Yeah, 'cause if I do, and do something stupid, it'll get back to my father." Octavia sighed, reclining in the chair.

"It's our last year at Hogwarts, O." Hermione added. "It's ok to live a little."

"Plus there won't be any other Slytherins there, so who's gonna rat you out?" Ron asked before shoving a handful of fries into his abnormally large trap.

Octavia shrugged lamely, unable to come up with a response.

"Fine," she relented, tossing her hands up in the air. "But if you lose?"

"If we lose, then the party won't be happening." Ron grumbled.

"The Slytherins will have a party," Luna chimed. "So we can have another girl's night."

"Deal," Hermione smiled. "Blaise will go to the Slytherin party, so we'll have the common room to ourselves."

"Yeah, until he comes back with Theo and Draco," Octavia mumbled.

Speak of the devils, all three members of the Snake Trio themselves sauntered down the main street, headed straight in their direction. Octavia scowled as Draco's cold eyes found her instantly, his gaze not faltering as the three of them continued to walk toward them.

"Thought they were using the Quidditch pitch?" Octavia hissed, her narrowed hazel orbs glued to Draco's cold grey eyes.

Everyone at the table shimmied to get a good look at the approaching trio, Harry scowling as he turned back around.

"I knew they didn't need the extra practice," Harry seethed, his cheeks growing red with anger. "They booked it just so we couldn't make up the time."

"Make up what time?" Hermione asked, turning back around.

"They've practically had free reign over the pitch this whole week, so we couldn't get enough practice hours in. They've done it on purpose."

"Looks like it might be a girls' night!" Octavia grinned, clapping her hands together.

Harry and Ron only glowered at her in response.

"What?" Octavia frowned. "I'm a Slytherin, remember?"

Luna laughed, the sound ringing like bells as Hermione shook her head. At times they did forget where Octavia's loyalties lay. And it wasn't with her House. Being a true Slytherin, her loyalties lay with herself. And she would much prefer a girl's night to the Gryffindor party.

The table fell into a tense silence as the Snake Trio approached, making their way past the table and into the establishment. Suddenly, an idea struck Octavia and she abruptly stood from her chair.

"Need to pee," Octavia muttered before turning and scurrying into the Three Broomsticks, leaving her friends to re-enter conversations regarding the game and party.

Pushing through the heavy door to the pub, Octavia stumbled over the threshold, her bright hazel eyes scanning the crowded space swiftly. Her eyes met with grey for a moment before she yanked her gaze from Draco and continued searching for her target.

Finding him, Octavia's stomach flipped as Professor Diggory made his way through the crowd toward the bathrooms. She couldn't have dreamt up a more opportune moment.

Not caring in the slightest about being courteous, Octavia shoved her way through the occupants of the busy pub, hastily following her professor to the back of the establishment. As she began to catch up with him with her hurried pace, she ran her fingers through her blonde curls, before straightening out the short hem of her skirt. Her tight curls brushed against her back, tickling her skin due to the backless nature of her new dress. The dress that her mother had _finally_ sent her after ordering it two weeks ago.

She was actually supposed to have ordered the ugliest dress in her magazine, according to her dare issued by Hermione. But Octavia had lied and told Ninny that her mother outright refused to purchase the dress for her. An easy lie, considering how dreadful the dress was. Instead, she purchased the dress she currently wore. The dress she put on that day just for the man that she followed through the pub.

Entirely unaware of Draco Malfoy following her discreetly, his eyes burning into her back as he stalked her like the predator he is.

"Professor!" Octavia shouted, scurrying after Diggory as he made his way through the quiet corridors of the pub, headed toward the toilets. "Professor Diggory!"

The Professor tensed before he came to a complete stop, recognising her voice instantly. He didn't turn around as she caught up to him, stopping a few feet away from him.

"What can I do for you, Miss Zabini?" Cedric asked, his back to her.

Neither of the two noticed Draco Malfoy step into the corridor, slipping into the shadows of an alcove as he watched the two intently. After he placed a disillusionment charm on himself, of course. He did not wish to be seen whilst the two interacted.

"Can we talk?" Octavia whispered, her hopeful gaze fixed on the back of his head.

"Not here," Cedric hushed, turning around to face her, his expression worried.

"Then where?" Octavia pouted. "You've been avoiding me."

"There are too many people here, Miss Zabini. It is best that this conversation waits –"

"No!" Octavia stomped her foot childishly. "You'll just keep avoiding me. I want to talk about it now!"

"I do not think that there is anything to discuss, Miss Zabini," Professor Diggory responded, his air of professionalism slipping back into place. "Now, if you will excuse me."

"Was it really that bad?" Octavia whispered, her eyes alight with pain.

"What?" Cedric frowned.

"I … hadn't kissed anyone before … I … I could get better. I didn't know what to do … I'll try harder …"

"Octavia," Cedric whispered, eyeing her sadly. "It wasn't the kiss … the kiss was great. _You_ are great. It's … more than that. I'm your professor, and you're my student. That kiss should not have happened. It can't happen again."

"But I want it to," Octavia pleaded, stepping closer to him. "I want it to happen again. And so what if you're my teacher? We can just … be secretive about it … and I graduate in less than a year!"

Octavia's skin tingled with excitement as he placed his hand on her waist and led her into the shadows of the alcove, allowing them a little more privacy and discretion. Or so they thought, for they were now standing a few inches away from a furious Draco Malfoy.

"What happens after you graduate?" Cedric countered, his voice hushed. "You think your father is just going to change his mind about rejecting my offers time and time again?"

"You made more than one offer?" Octavia blinked up at him.

Cedric smiled down at her. "I've made many offers on your contract."

A flattering blush crept up Octavia's cheeks as she bit her lip.

"But that doesn't change that I am not wealthy enough for your contract," Cedric sighed. "Yes, you graduate in less than a year. But what happens after that, Octavia? Nothing can. Unless you are willing to flee your life and become a pariah to your people."

Blanching visibly, Octavia's hazel orbs filled with pain as she realised that he was correct. There was nothing and no one that could make her leave her life; her _family_. And her father would not accept him. So what could be done?

Although, Octavia was quite adept at getting her way.

"I'll make him." Octavia promised. "It'll take a while, but he'll … he'll say yes."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Cedric laughed, running his hands through his luscious hair.

"Same way I always get what I want from him," Octavia shrugged, a devious smirk on her plump lips. "Lots of tears and tantrums."

Cedric smiled, gazing at her warmly as she grinned proudly. Their eyes remained connected, both forgetting where they were for a moment. But before the moment could take complete control, Cedric stepped back from her.

"If your father accepts my offer, this can work between us. But while you're my student, it just can't happen."

"But what if my father accepts your offer soon?" Octavia asked hopefully. "Then … we can still … you know …"

"Not officially," Cedric shook his head. "People would learn of our engagement. That is inevitable. But our affections cannot take place during the year."

"At least in public, right?" Octavia grinned. "But what about in your office? Or … here?"

"This is in public," Cedric laughed, neither of them feeling the fury radiating from the invisible body beside them.

"So you're office then?" Octavia beamed proudly, pushing past him before he could respond.

Cedric smiled as he watched her skip away, a bounce in her step that filled him with desire.

"Thank you, _Professor_!" Octavia called out, not looking back before she disappeared into the crowd.

Cedric watched her go, a wide grin on his face and light blush on his cheeks. He quite liked when she called him 'professor'. Not that he would admit that, though.

Turning, Cedric began to make his way to the bathrooms before a red jet of light came out of nowhere, slamming him into the wall harshly. A simple _stupefy_ , a powerful one at that.

A spell filled with such raw fury that Cedric was knocked out before he even hit the wall.

* * *

The crackling of the simmering fire was barely heard over the three girls gossiping avidly. Well, Luna was hardly gossiping. She was actually just humming to herself, seemingly lost in one of her many daydreams. Hermione was doing something more along the lines of complaining. But Octavia was gossiping. She hung on every word Hermione said, basking in the dramas of another. It was quite wonderful.

"Harry said that even Malfoy grabbed a bat and hit bludgers to the Gryffindor teammates at times," Hermione continued, her brown eyes alight with injustice. "Four Gryffindors in the infirmary, and all the Slytherins get is one detention? It's ridiculous!"

"Is it true that Draco hit the professors with a bludger?" Octavia asked, rolling around to lay on her tummy, propping her chin up on her hands.

"He aimed the bludger at the staff stands, according to Ron," Hermione clarified. "The bludger didn't actually hit any of the professors, but it almost got Professor Diggory."

"Oh." Octavia said, her lips parted and forming a circle.

"It just infuriates me that Snape only gave them one detention," Hermione complained. "And they still won."

"Yeah, but their detention is tonight," Octavia yawned, rolling onto her back as she stretched out. "So they can't party or anything."

"That's hardly a fitting punishment," Hermione spat. "They put students in the infirmary! Ginny's arm was broken!"

"I'm not defending them, Ninny." Octavia frowned.

"Then what _are_ you doing?" Hermione hissed, raising her brow as she stared expectantly at O.

"I dunno," Octavia sighed. "I'm just saying that they will be pretty bummed that they can't celebrate their win."

Hermione rolled her eyes, not finding the punishment to be sufficient for their actions.

"Why were they so aggressive anyway?" Octavia asked, attempting to deflect Hermione's annoyance from herself.

"Because they're Slytherins," Hermione shrugged, unaware of the sour expression that fleetingly graced Octavia's face.

Octavia simply loathed that her friend still harboured some resentment toward her House. Yes, most Slytherins were unsavoury types, her brother included. And definitely Draco Malfoy. But not all Slytherins were like that, especially not her. Or … she liked to think so, at least. While Octavia knew that she was selfish and self-absorbed at times, she also knew that she was welcoming and friendly. She only wanted the best for those she loved … given that she was happy too, of course. But still. She wasn't like the others.

Gryffindors were hardly all saints either, in her opinion. Hermione had a heart of gold, but she was bossy and self-important at times. Harry was suspicious and judgemental when it came to Slytherins. Ron was huffy and quick to explode over the smallest incidents. Everyone was good and bad. No matter the House you belonged to.

Although, the Slytherin Quidditch team were perhaps a little too bad.

"What did Blaise do?" Octavia asked interestedly.

"I wasn't there," Hermione dismissed.

"Yeah, but did Harry and Ron say anything?" Octavia pressed. "He's the Keeper."

"I know he's the Keeper," Hermione rolled her eyes. "They didn't say anything about him."

"Oh," Octavia bit her lip, her eyes narrowing somewhat.

She had hoped for some incriminating intel on her brother, providing her with enough material in the future to discredit him to her parents. That is, if he decided to snitch on her again for being rude to Draco. She needed something on him, just in case. Though, she could always just lie.

It's not like it would be the first time she lied about her brother's behaviour to her parents.

* * *

Having just parted ways with Luna who had gone off toward the Ravenclaw Tower, Octavia skipped down the grand staircase as she made her way to her dorms. She was well out passed curfew, roaming through the castle after midnight. But considering the fact that the Head Boy was her brother, and the Head Girl was her best friend, she wasn't exactly anxious about being caught. Plus Hermione knew that she was out after curfew and said nothing.

The main threat was the Prefects. She wasn't exactly on friendly terms with any of the Prefects, particularly the Slytherins ones. Draco and Pansy.

The latter of the two would undoubtedly be shacked up somewhere in the castle with a random guy, while Draco – she assumed – would be currently serving his detention. Or he would be finished with his punishment, and would have already retired to his own dormitory. So she wasn't exactly on edge as she strolled through the main foyer of the castle and toward the Dark Corridor that led to the dungeons.

Foolishly, she allowed herself to hope that she would encounter Professor Diggory on her way to the Slytherin common room. But that was silly, given the late hour and the location of her destination. He would already be in bed, fast asleep probably.

She wondered what he looked like when he slept. He was so handsome, in a dreamy boy-next-door way. His looks were charming without effort. So he probably looked magnificent as he slept.

Did he dream of her?

She didn't know, really. She hoped he did, but it was all speculation. Octavia knew that he harboured affection for her, but how deep did that run? She didn't know.

Actually, she didn't know much about Cedric. Only that she fancied him. But that was a strong premise for an arranged marriage, so it didn't concern her. At least they had the initial attraction. Others weren't so lucky.

In saying that, there were many potential suitors that could be deemed attractive. Like Draco or Theo. But she wasn't attracted _to_ them. So, with Cedric's offer on her contract, she was quite hopeful indeed.

Perhaps their mutual attraction would grow? It had the potential to grow into something beyond physical appeal.

Regardless, it hardly mattered at that point. She could allow herself to ponder their prospective relationship at a future date. But not at that particular moment. For she still had to work on her father to consider his offer.

A difficult task.

Cedric was correct in his statement about his wealth not being abundant enough for her contract. She may have to work if they were to marry. Or maybe not, for her dowry was sufficient to sustain a comfortable lifestyle three times over. The issue was that Octavia was accustomed to a lifestyle that surpassed 'comfortable'. Octavia was accustomed to travelling constantly, and enjoying a life of lavish luxury. Having an unlimited amount of galleons at her disposal for whatever she desired.

Perhaps her father would consider supporting her when she was wed to Cedric?

A girl could dream.

"Out after curfew, little squib?" A familiar aristocratic drawl sounded out, causing Octavia to freeze mid-step.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"What do you want, Draco?" Octavia sighed, turning around to face the unwanted arrival in the Slytherin corridors.

The moment her eyes locked with his fierce grey orbs, fear assaulted her body without mercy. His eyes held so much malice and fury, she feared that his stare alone would destroy her. Octavia held her breath as he stepped toward her casually, his hands stuffed in his pockets. While his movements were casual, she felt like a mouse being hunted by a cat. No. Not a cat.

A wolf.

A hungry wolf out for blood and destruction.

The fury emanated from his muscular body, his jaw clenched tightly causing two light dimples of sorts to appear on his pale cheeks. And not the cute kind. No. It only added to his intimidating appearance.

"I was thinking," Draco drawled, his tone slicing through the air like a sharp knife. "The politically correct term for your blood status is 'wizard-born muggle', no?"

Octavia didn't respond. She merely gulped as he neared her, goosebumps rising up on her flesh as a shiver ran down her spine. She didn't recall a time that he stared at her with such hatred.

"So you are a muggle, of sorts. Therefore, it would be accurate to refer to you as a 'mudblood', would it not?"

Her pink dress brushed against her thigh as she took a step back, his nearing proximity causing her heart to pump surges of horrid adrenaline through her tense body.

"While the blood that runs through your veins is pure," Draco continued, his tone low and drenched with malice, "it is tainted by the abomination that you are. Would you agree, given the facts, that your blood is thereby dirty?"

"No," Octavia croaked, her voice refusing to be more than a pathetic whisper.

"You do not agree?" Draco quirked his brow, coming to a stop right in front of the terrified girl. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"No," Octavia shook her head, her fearful hazel orbs locked into his chilling stare.

"No?" Draco prompted. "No, you do not agree?"

"I'm not calling you a liar," Octavia whispered, her voice shaking along with her body. "I just … don't agree."

"Allow me to present my case," Draco demanded, not making a request in the slightest.

Octavia wanted nothing more than to turn around and bolt down the corridor at an impossible speed, the look in his eyes terrifying her to her fucking core. But the fierceness in his grey eyes had her frozen on the spot, unable to move a muscle.

That is, until he stepped around her, closing in on her as she stumbled backwards, only stopping when her back pressed against the cold, rough wall. The course stone was almost painful against her bare back, but she barely registered it. Her mind was fuzzy, hearing her heart pounding brutally in her ears as he placed his hands on the wall at either side of her head, trapping her.

"I find myself in somewhat of a predicament," Draco spoke icily, his molten grey eyes boring down at her wide hazel orbs. "I possess great respect and familiarity with the Zabini family. It almost pains me that they produced an abomination, such as yourself."

Her eyes stung, the fear taking a complete hold on her as tears welled up. His breath brushed against her face, the scent of peppermint invading her senses. But she was certain that she could taste the hatred too.

"The rumour that circulates your true origin is what prompted my interest, however." Draco continued, stepping closer to her, their bodies a mere inch apart now. "As it happens, Adela Yaxley died of mysterious causes after disappearing for eight months."

Octavia's cheeks were now damp from the light tears that escaped her fearful eyes. She knew exactly where he was going with this, considering the rumour was quite prominent in her society. It was mostly based on her contrasting appearance to the rest of her family, but her mother and father had always assured her that there was no truth behind it. She was their daughter, 'in love and blood' as her mother always said.

"Adela was known to be the mistress of Cerberus Rosier," Draco continued, his body tensing as his anger threatened to take over. "I do not doubt that you are the result of their scandalous relations. A punishment, one could say."

"Leave me al –" Octavia began before Draco slammed his hand on the wall, effectively silencing her as she flinched.

"I am not finished," Draco snarled, his face inching toward hers.

Octavia sank back into the wall, as though the futile attempt would assist her in escaping the man before her. Tears streamed down her blotchy cheeks as she sniffed, her lips damp from the salty liquid.

"We are both aware of the fact that Adela succumbed to death," Draco continued, his voice laced with anger. "But do you know why? I believe that I do."

Octavia shook her head weakly, her face scrunched up as she resisted the sobbing fit that threatened to consume her.

"I believe, little squib," Draco growled, his body almost touching hers as he stared down at her coldly, "that she took her own life after bringing filth like you into the world."

Swallowing back the sob that crept up in her throat, Octavia averted her eyes, fixing her gaze on the collar of his shirt instead.

"Your own mother could not bear to be around you, so she took her own life." Draco growled, Octavia trembling as she cried silently.

Octavia shivered, her tears relentless as his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away her tears gently. Her body trembled further as his face neared hers, his lips brushing against her forehead as a sob escaped her lips.

"Detention for being out after curfew," Draco whispered against her skin before pushing himself from her.

Draco turned and strode down the corridor as Octavia slumped down the wall, burying her face in her hands as she cried. The sounds were muffled by her hands but they carried down the corridor regardless, reaching the ears of Draco Malfoy as he walked away. His jaw clenched tightly as he listened to her weep, conflicted terribly inside.


	12. Chapter 12

_"_ _Draco!" Octavia whined, running through the gardens to catch up to him. "Draco, wait for me!"_

 _The boy she chased stopped immediately, turning to stare at her with an expression of impatience on his handsome features. But he waited._

 _Octavia smiled as her pace slowed somewhat, turning into more of a leisurely skip toward him. He returned the smile._

 _"_ _Come on, O," Draco drawled, his lips still forming a soft smile as he extended his hand._

 _Octavia hummed as she approached him, placing her small hand in his, their fingers entwining together. They were supposed to be searching the gardens for Theo and Blaise, given that they were currently in a game of hide-and-seek. Draco had found her first, causing her to be obligated in joining his search ranks. But they weren't really looking for the other two._

 _Yes, they ran around the grand gardens of Malfoy Manor, but they didn't look anywhere. They were enjoying each other's company too much._

 _The two ten year old children strolled up the pathway of the gardens, hand in hand, occasionally peering into the thick bushes here and there._

 _"_ _We could always cheat, you know," Draco suggested, casting a side-glance at the pretty blonde girl beside him._

 _"_ _How?" Octavia frowned as they continued walking._

 _"_ _Magic," Draco smiled, squeezing her hand gently._

 _Lifting up his free hand, a white glowing ball escaped his palm. A ball that had not been there before. Octavia watched in complete fascination as the ball hovered above his palm for a moment before whizzing up far in the sky, and circling the area as it buzzed loudly._

 _Octavia's lips were parted, her mouth forming an 'o' as the white ball soared off, further up the gardens before coming to a stop above a rose bush._

 _"_ _There," Draco smirked, walking up the pathway, pulling Octavia along with him._

 _Her little legs shuffled hurriedly to keep his brisk pace, his hand clasping hers tightly. Blonde curls bounced spectacularly, her light pink robes bristling in the breeze as they made their way to the lush bush._

 _Draco released her hand as they arrived at their destination, inclining his head to indicate that he was allowing Octavia to find the others. Biting her lip, Octavia crept up to the bush, eying it suspiciously as it rustled. Grinning widely, Octavia jumped behind the bush, erupting into a fit of giggles as she frightened Theo and Blaise. The two crouching boys scowled and mumbled under their breaths as they stood, Octavia cheering and clapping her hands together._

 _"_ _I win!" Octavia declared, prancing back over to a smiling Draco. "I'm the best!"_

 _"_ _That's not fair," Theo mumbled. "You cheated! We saw it!"_

 _"_ _Well, Draco cheated." Blaise scowled. "Octavia can't do magic, so it wasn't her."_

 _Octavia knew that her brother was not defending her- he was mocking her. Something that her parents demanded that he cease doing._

 _"_ _Mummy!" Octavia shouted, taking off at a sprint up the pathway._

 _Blaise scowled, knowing full well that she was running to her parents to snitch on him. He would have to survive another week without his Nimbus 1000. His scowl deepened as Draco ran off, keeping Octavia's quick pace up the pathway. But Blaise and Theo didn't follow- instead, they entered into another game of hide and seek with each other._

 _"_ _Mummy," Octavia whined, approaching her parents on the patio._

 _The Zabinis were currently enjoying tea and brunch in the summer weather, looking out onto the vast and grand Malfoy Manor gardens._

 _"_ _Mummy," Octavia pouted, coming to a stop in front of her mother on the chair._

 _"_ _What is the matter, dear?" Mediana asked softly, placing her cup of pink tea on the circular table._

 _"_ _Blaise said I can't do magic," Octavia pouted, crossing her arms over her chest as Draco arrived._

 _"_ _Did he, now?" Leonardo asked, his eyes darkening as he glanced at his son playing in the distance. "Pay him no mind, Octavia."_

 _"_ _But it's true," Octavia whined, stomping her foot. "I can't. Why can't I do magic?"_

 _"_ _You are a late bloomer, is all," Mediana smiled gently, cupping her pouting daughter's cheek. "Your magic will appear in time."_

 _Octavia nodded, taking solace in her mother's reassurance. Her mother wouldn't lie to her. Tingles shot through her arm as fingers entwined with hers, Draco moving to stand beside her as he held her hand. Lucius and Narcissa shared a meaningful look that the children did not notice, Draco turning and pulling Octavia away from the adults._

 _"_ _Octavia," Draco began, his tone soft as they walked back down the pathway. "Some witches and wizards do not find their magic for a while. It will come, even if you have to wait a little longer than others."_

 _Octavia smiled as he squeezed her hand gently, veering off the path and toward the flowery bushes that paralleled the cobblestone trail. They came to a stop before a lush bush, littered with blossomed and spectacular flowers, drinking in the sunshine splendidly._

 _"_ _These," Draco said, his finger grazing over an open flower, "have blossomed already. Yet they were planted at the same time as those."_

 _Octavia's bright hazel eyes followed his finger to a closed flower that had not yet come to bud._

 _"_ _But when that flower blossoms, it will be the greatest of them all." Draco claimed, turning to face Octavia as she smiled at the flower._

 _"_ _Am I that flower?"_

 _"_ _Yes." Draco nodded._

 _"_ _What is it?" Octavia whispered, tracing the purple petals with her finger._

 _"_ _Saffron Crocus," Draco replied, watching her with complete fascination as she drank in the beauty of the closed flower._

 _"_ _I like purple," Octavia smiled._

 _"_ _I know," Draco said as he plucked a blossomed flower from the bush and handed it to her._

 _"_ _Thanks," Octavia blushed, taking the flower from his slender fingers._

 _Stepping toward her hesitantly, Draco clenched his fists together as she inhaled the sweet aroma of the flower. His fists remained clenched by his sides, nerves trickling through his body as she returned her attention to him, their bodies a mere inch apart._

 _The flattering blush remained on her exquisite features as Draco struggled to steady his breathing, leaning toward her, their noses touching ever so slightly._

 _"_ _Are you going to kiss me?" Octavia whispered as Draco swallowed audibly._

 _"_ _Yes," Draco breathed, his lips almost touching hers._

 _His breath invaded her mouth, the taste of peppermint sweeping over her tongue as he responded to her question. And with that one word, Octavia felt near-crippling nervousness assault her. The good kind. Her tummy was summersaulting as her heart fluttered magnificently, their lips touching ever so slightly._

 _Their breaths hitched as he pressed his lips against hers, both of them frozen in place at the contact. He had kissed her before, but on the hand, forehead and cheeks. Never the lips._

 _Scraping up whatever courage she had, Octavia stepped closer toward him, their bodies touching as his hands cupped her cheeks gently. Their lips didn't move, and they were not quite sure what to do. So they merely kept their lips connected for a while, relishing in the softness of the plump skin joining together._

 _Suddenly, Draco had pulled away, stepping back from her as they both blushed profusely. Her wide hazel eyes watched as he pushed passed her and ran down the stone pathway, leaving her there by the flower bush alone. Her eyes glazed over and cheeks crimson._

 _Her heart fluttering in her chest as her fingers moved up to her tingling lips._

* * *

Octavia groaned indelicately, rolling around in the bed as she cleared her sleepy mind of the dream. Of the memory. It was a rare occurrence these days for Octavia to dream of him, so when she did, she was compelled to shower. To wash herself of the sweetness that memory; the sweetness that transformed into bitterness the very moment she awoke.

So that's exactly what Octavia did that Sunday morning. Climbing out of the bed, Octavia's bare feet met with the cold floor of her dormitory. She quickly wiped her chin free of drool. The steady breathing of her three roommates sounded out around her as she tiptoed toward the door, making her way to the bathroom. Where she would wash away her sweat, along with the dream.

The memory.

* * *

 _"_ _Shh," Aunt Linda hushed, clutching her against her bosom. "Hermione, you have to be quiet, ok? Can you do that for me?"_

 _Hermione stifled a fearful sob, wrapping her arms around her Aunt's neck as she carried her through the second floor of the home. Crashing sounds and frequent bangs echoed around them, the house occasionally vibrating as screams tore through the air. Hermione knew that the screams were coming from outside in the street, but the front door was blasted open causing her to tighten her hold on her Aunt Linda._

 _Linda raced through the hallway before creeping into the master bedroom and closing the door behind her silently._

 _"_ _Hermione, look at me," Linda whispered, placing her niece down on the carpet. "Look at me. We're just playing a game, ok? It's a fun game, and if you win, I'll take you to Disneyland, ok?"_

 _Hermione nodded, tears streaming down her face as a terrible scream ripped through the house, coming from inside. From downstairs. A man's scream._

 _Linda's face scrunched up in absolute anguish, but she tried to remain strong for her terrified niece._

 _"_ _The game, Hermione," Linda whispered, cupping Hermione's face in her hands. "You have to be as quiet as a mouse, ok? And you have to stay hidden, no matter what you hear? Do you understand? No matter what you hear, you have to be quiet and stay hidden."_

 _Hermione nodded again, her youthful features contorted in horrendous fear as heavy footsteps were heard bounding up the staircase to the second floor of the humble home. The home that was being invaded._

 _"_ _Ok," Linda whispered, almost to herself._

 _Linda stood and grabbed Hermione, stuffing her inside of the closet as the young girl – no older than two – curled up into a ball. Linda didn't waste a moment before covering the girl with blankets and coats, shielding her from the intruders, should they check the closet. It was likely that they would, but there was nowhere else for her niece to hide in the house._

 _Closing the doors quietly, Linda hurriedly placed a few belongings (bags and pillows) at the foot of the closet, hoping that it would cause the intruders to dismiss the area. Hoping that they would not go in the closet. Hoping that they would not discover her niece._

 _Hermione shook and trembled, in the foetal position as she lay buried under the materials. The weight was heavy and almost suffocating. Or that could have just been her fear._

 _A wretched scream resounded through the bedroom, Hermione's silent tears increasing as she knew the screamer to be her Aunt._

* * *

Hermione jolted up in the bed, a sob escaping her parted lips as her body trembled violently. The sheets were drenched in her sweat, her curls stuck to her damp and pale face as she panted. A wretched shiver ran down her spine as she shuddered, the dream haunting her mind with flash images.

Or the memory.

The memory she dreamed of at times, waking her up like clockwork in the middle of the night. That night in particular, the nightmare awoke her around 5am, according to the sunrise that crept through the window, illuminating the dust particles in the air.

Running her fingers through her hair, Hermione winced as she was met with balls of knots, unyielding to her efforts of self-grooming. Groaning, Hermione threw the twisted sheets away from her before groggily climbing out of the damp bed. Her soaked and goosebumped body was in dire need of a shower. Much like her matted curls.

If only you could shower your mind.

Making her way to the wooden door at the other end of the bedroom, Hermione willed the flashing images of her dream to evaporate. But they did not. Instead, the images and screams plagued her mind as she pushed through the door and entered the communal bathroom she shared with the Head Boy.

Not wasting a moment, Hermione strolled straight over to the shower, flicking her wand as she went to ensure the other entrance was securely locked. It wouldn't do to have Blaise walk in on her when she was in the shower. Not that he would anyway. It was just a precaution. You could never exercise too caution while residing with a Slytherin.

As she turned on the taps, Hermione released a gentle sigh as the warm water rained down on her instantly, the heat soothing her feverish skin. The cascading water drenched her curls, plastering them to her pale face as she closed her eyes. Despite her efforts, however, Hermione just couldn't rid herself of the nightmare she had just dreamt.

In the nightmare – or memory – Hermione was a toddler. So how she could remember that night at her Aunt's house was simply beyond her. Although she could not recall the terrible events of that night without falling into a deep slumber. Perhaps due to the fact that her subconscious had free reign over her brain while she slept. That was likely to be the case.

Hermione wished that her subconscious memories would kindly disappear and never return again. No one should remember the screams of family as they were killed.

And she didn't remember, for many years. Her parents had sent her to counsellors and psychologists throughout her childhood to assess her trauma. After continuously receiving a clean bill of mental health, they desisted in their treatment of her. And they rarely spoke of that night again.

Until one day, in her second year at Hogwarts, Hermione dreamt of the memory. And again. And again.

The incessant nightmare that robbed her sleep.

The memory she wished she did not remember.

An urgent knock at the door hauled her from her self-pitying thoughts, tossing her right back into the now.

"Granger!" Blaise barked, evidently knocking on his door to the shared bathroom. "Granger, are you trying to drown yourself in there?"

Hermione sighed, rubbing her damp hands over her drenched face, choosing not to respond. Was it too much to ask for a peaceful morning shower without interruption from the infuriating snake? Apparently so.

"Granger!" Blaise shouted, banging on the door again. "We have to patrol soon. Get out of the shower!"

Patrol? That wasn't for another hour!

"Granger!" Blaise barked, his fist hitting the door urgently. "It may come as a surprise to you, but that shower belongs to me as well. And I need to use it!"

Groaning, Hermione turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a nearby towel and wrapping it around her wet body. Storming over to the snake's door, Hermione scowled as she unlocked it and whipped it open, finding herself face to face with the Slytherin Italian.

"It's all yours, Zabini." Hermione declared in feigned politeness, the towel clutched tightly around her body.

She didn't notice Blaise's fleetingly shocked expression at seeing her in a towel, his dark eyes growing hungry as she turned and stormed across the bathroom, disappearing through her own doorway.

And now, thanks to Hermione Granger, Blaise had a raging hard-on that had to be seen to.

* * *

Octavia sat cross-legged on her bed, the drapes closed around her as she chewed on her purple quill. The white, smooth parchment was spread out in front of her, but she just didn't know what to write. She what she wanted to say, but it had to be calculated. It had to possess the exact amount of manipulation and duress.

It had to possess an effective amount of _her_.

Sighing heavily, Octavia put quill to parchment and began writing the dreaded letter.

.

 _Father,_

 _I've been thinking a lot lately about my duties to the Zabini family. Especially my future marriage to whoever you choose. I want to talk to you about the offers on my contract, and talk to you about Cedric Diggory._

 _I know that his family isn't rich like ours, but I think he would be a good and kind husband to me and bring our family a lot of honour. I just want to know if you will consider talking to me about this. But I know you will, because you want me to be happy, don't you?_

 _Love, O._

 _Xo_

.

It was short, Octavia knew this. But it was to the point and possessed the correct amount of slight manipulations as it should. It was effective.

For it presented her father with subtle threats of tantrums. It baited her future happiness, and put his love for her to the test. He would see right through her cunning words. But that should not suggest that it would not have the desired effect.

Octavia peeked through the closed drapes to assess the occupancy of her dorm room. Realising, with a surge of relief, that Millicent was no longer in the room, but likely to be in the shower, Octavia pulled open the curtains and jumped off the bed.

Dressed in lilac robes already, Octavia slipped on her silver heels and grabbed the parchment from her mattress. All she had to do was take the letter to the Owlry and her plan would be in motion.

Hopefully her _successful_ plan.

Only time would tell.

* * *

Hermione's lips were pressed into a thin line as she strolled down the empty corridor, Blaise by her side. To her utter infuriation, he had insisted on accompanying her, rather than splitting up to complete a more efficient patrol. While his presence would irritate her on a normal day, Hermione had a particularly fragile patience that morning. The remnants of the dream still haunted her mind and nerves, causing her expression to reflect a displeased scowl frequently. Even though Blaise wasn't saying anything. His breathing alone was driving her mad.

Veering off the corridor, they turned into a dim hallway lined with portraits of sleeping occupants, both Head Boy and Girl remaining in an uncomfortable silence. As they had done for the entire hour of the patrol thus far. Making their way toward the Ravenclaw Wing of the castle, Hermione was sure to peek into alcoves and small corridors as they walked, ensuring that she was conducting her patrol to an acceptable degree. Blaise, on the other hand, mostly hummed and inspected his fingernails at random intervals. He had yet to check a broom closet or empty classroom, allowing Hermione to do all the work for him.

How he received the position of Head Boy, she would never know.

Yes, Blaise's grades were impressively high in all areas. In fact, he was the third highest grading student in their year, behind Hermione and Draco Malfoy. Fucking Malfoy. He always beat her in their tests and assignments, even if only by a mark or two. But Blaise was good five percent behind her, so she allowed a sense of superiority to fill her when she considered his high grades. For hers were higher. More impressive. Conveying her brilliance.

Not that Hermione considered herself to be brilliant, or anything. She knew that she possessed a great knack for retaining information read in a book or such. Therefore, she excelled in all areas. All except Divination, of course. A silly class, in Hermione's opinion. Complete nonsense and bullshit. Taught by a crazy, self-proclaimed 'Seer'. Ridiculous.

Again, they veered off the corridor and headed down another, nearing the Ravenclaw hallways. Blaise, strolling casually beside her, emitted a yawn that he made no attempt to stifle. Hermione frowned, knowing full well that he was only attempting to coax her. His yawn was feigned.

Not taking the bait, Hermione continued to walk down the hallway, glancing into alcoves as she went. Occasionally, she would check empty classrooms, but not all of them. It was far too early in the morning for students to be lurking about, snogging – or worse – around the castle. No. Most students would be sound asleep in bed, given that it was the wee hours on a Sunday morning. In fact, it was barely 7am.

Breakfast would begin soon, but it would continue until 9am. So, again, most students would remain in bed.

"What are your plans for the day?" Blaise yawned, stuffing his hands into his pockets as they strolled through the corridors.

Hermione shot a side-glance at the Head Boy, her eyes swiftly scanning his profile. He appeared thoroughly bored, and the hooded lids of his eyes hinted to the genuine nature of his weariness.

"Not that it is any of your business," Hermione snipped, raising her chin as she peered into a broom closet. "I am spending the day with Ron and Harry in the Gryffindor common room."

"How exciting," Blaise drawled, keeping her brisk pace with leisurely strides of his long legs.

"You asked," Hermione grumbled, quickening her pace. It made no difference whatsoever.

Blaise didn't respond, the two of them falling back into silence. But this time, after his attempt to strike up conversation, the silence was slightly more awkward than before.

"You?" Hermione asked politely, attempting to dim the uncomfortable silence somewhat.

"Sleeping, I image." Blaise sighed, his voice conveying the weariness he evidently felt. "Hopefully not alone."

And there it is.

Hermione huffed as she rolled her eyes, Blaise smirking at her slight vexation. How he loved to irritate her.

"Interested?" Blaise grinned, his glossy dark eyes filled with enjoyment and tiredness.

"Not in your wildest dreams, Zabini." Hermione spat as they turned onto another corridor.

Hermione bowed her head as they passed Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost tilting his head in response. Attempting to mask her disgust at the almost decapitated head lolling off the neck, Hermione cleared her throat and forced a polite smile. It came across as more of a grimace, however.

Nearly Headless Nick didn't seem to notice, though, as he floated by them and disappeared through a stone wall.

"Squeamish, Granger?" Blaise drawled, evidently catching her poorly concealed disgust.

"You misunderstand me," Hermione smiled falsely. "My disgust is caused by your presence, not Nearly Headless Nick's decapitation."

Blaise laughed, the two of them strolling down the corridor toward the Ravenclaw Tower. The last checkpoint of their rounds of the castle. Nearing the end of their patrol, where they would then go their separate ways. Hermione could hardly wait.

"The Halloween Ball is coming up," Blaise said, his tone casual as he – again – inspected his perfectly manicured nails.

Hermione hummed, assessing him suspiciously out the corner of her eye. "So?"

"So," Blaise smirked, picking at imaginary lint on his expensive black robes. "We have to organise it as the Heads."

"Oh," Hermione blushed lightly, scolding herself for forgetting. "Yes, we do."

The Halloween Ball was only six weeks away, but that was hardly long considering how much planning went into the events. In the Wizarding World, Halloween was taken far more seriously than in the muggle world. It was a traditional night that celebrated the rich history of magical folk, alive and dead. And semi-dead, in the case of vampires.

"I'll check my schedule," Hermione said, "and I will inform you of my availabilities to discuss the Ball."

"As you wish, your majesty." Blaise smirked, almost tasting her air of self-importance. It was delicious.

"Should we delegate a theme?" Hermione asked, ignoring his jibe.

"Halloween is a theme in itself, is it not?" Blaise said, quirking his brow as he side-glanced at Hermione.

"I suppose," Hermione shrugged. It would have been nice, in her opinion, to narrow down the theme.

"What did you have in mind?" Blaise asked, his dark eyes watching her from the corner of his eye.

"I was thinking it would be … culturally enlightening to have the theme as Muggle and Magical."

"Elaborate, please." Blaise requested, his eyes darkening at the thought of a muggle theme. But not because of prejudice. No.

Blaise did not want his sister to have any further introductions to the muggle world, should she get any wild ideas. That would not do.

"Well there are fairy-tales in the Wizarding World, yes?" Hermione asked, Blaise nodding in response. "There are fairy-tales in the muggle world too. I thought it would be interesting to have the fairy-tales from both worlds as the themes. People would ask for the source and story behind the costumes that they do not recognise, therefore –"

"-They would learn of the other world and culture." Blaise interrupted, finishing her sentence to the exact word.

"Yes," Hermione frowned, staring at him quizzically for a moment.

"No." Blaise clipped, his jaw clenching slightly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione laughed, coming to a stop as she turned to face him.

"I said no." Blaise shrugged, his hands still in his pockets as they faced one another.

"Since when was your opinion the decider?" Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Since you appear unable to propose a decent theme," Blaise drawled, reclining against the wall as he eyed her coolly.

In reality, he just refused to introduce Octavia to parts of the muggle world. It was a great fear of his that she would amalgamate into that world following graduation. He had his suspicions as to why, also.

Suspicions that he daren't voice.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, her body tensing as utter infuriation soared through every nerve in her body. Repressing the urge to whack his nonchalant expression off of his handsome face, Hermione merely smiled.

"Shame," Hermione shrugged. "Because that's the theme, whether you like it or not."

Suddenly, Hermione found herself against the wall, Blaise's muscular body pressing against her chest as he stared down at her. His leg rested between hers, lifting her up the wall slightly, her tip-toes only just touching the stone ground. Her hands pressed against his firm chest, but her attempts to push him away had no effect whatsoever.

Particularly when he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head, his dark eyes boring down at her confused and cautious brown orbs.

"Such Gryffindor traits you possess," Blaise drawled, his eyes betraying his feigned nonchalance. "Some refer to it as bravery, whereas I see it for what it truly is; foolishness. A foolish, little lioness."

"Get the hell away from me," Hermione seethed, attempting to conceal the flicker of fear within her.

Blaise considered her for a moment, his eyes darkening as his jaw clenched tightly. But he obeyed. Pushing himself from the wall – and her – Blaise stuffed his hands in his pockets before turning and storming down the corridor. Leaving a wide-eyed and furious Hermione to watch him go.


	13. Chapter 13

Octavia rolled her eyes as Hermione fussed over the steaming cauldron, the smell of the potion seeping up her nostrils. It was downright putrid. But that was a good sign, when it came to the fifth brewing stage of Euphoric Elixir. Only one more week and the potion would be complete- successfully, of course. Perhaps the undeniable precision of the potion that bubbled in the cauldron was due to Octavia's perfectionist of a potions partner. Her best friend, Hermione Granger.

Thanks to pairing up with the bossy, know-it-all Gryffindor, Octavia's submitted potions are what kept her grades at 'Acceptable'. Without Hermione, Octavia would certainly fail the class. For her essays were her downfall in potions- they were simply appalling. Alas, her father had demanded that she continue studying the subject in her seventh year, much to her dismay.

"O," Hermione snapped, her forehead glistening with sweat. "Add the linchworm."

Octavia robotically picked up the small jar of writhing linchworms from the table, her face scrunching up in disgust as she eyed the slimy insects. Gross.

"How many?" Octavia asked, but scowled as Hermione bustled over to the supply closet, out of ear-shot.

Fuck.

Octavia had ruined enough potions in her years at Hogwarts to know that ingredients had to be added at an almost precise moment. So it could destroy their entire potion if she waited for Hermione to return before adding the insects.

Sighing, she plodded over to the cauldron, her hazel eyes scanning the textbook open before her. It informed her instantly- three linchworms had to be added to the left side of the potion before being allowed to simmer.

Grimacing, Octavia reluctantly reached into the jar and shivered as she pulled out an insect. The sliminess coated her fingers upon contact, the worm writhing around in her grasp. The rank juices from the jar now stained her fingers a murky shade of brown. So gross. But she was almost finished. Now all she had to do was add it to the left side of the potion.

The problem was, however, Octavia did not know her left and rights off the top of her head.

Discreetly, Octavia raised her other hand and extended her index finger and thumb. The position of them resembled a backwards 'L', meaning that it was her right hand. Now aware of which side was the left, Octavia tossed the worm into the bubbling cauldron, a sad expression gracing her face as the small creature hissed before dissolving quickly. Grudgingly, she repeated the murder of innocent creatures, tossing two more of them into the cauldron.

Octavia watched with bated breath as Professor Snape approached her table, his beady, black eyes peering into the contents of her cauldron. He nodded once in approval, Octavia beaming proudly in response as he turned and strode away to continue his potion assessments.

Now all she had to do was wait for Ninny to return with the moonrock and all would be finished for that lesson. Humming, Octavia tottered back over to her seat, snatching her quill from the desk before plopping herself down. She could really use the spare time in class to take notes and read up on the properties of the ingredients, thereby increasing the quality of her terrible essay-in-progress.

Her scalp itched a little as she flipped open textbook, stretching out her parchment on the table as she sat snootily in the chair. A frown graced her face as she felt something brush through her curls, her hand making its way to her hair. Her slender fingers brushed up through her tight curls, her frown deepening as they came into contact with slime. Moving slime.

Octavia soared out of her seat, screaming and whining as her hands desperately snatched the linchworms out of her hair. Tears prickled at her hazel eyes as worm after worm was discovered, some slithering over her scalp, buried deep in her curls.

A shivery whine escaped her lips as Hermione reached her, accompanied by Professor Snape, the latter flicking his wand and removing all the creatures from her hair, levitating them away from her.

"Get them off of me!" Octavia cried, her hands frantically checking her hair for any more of the insects.

"They're gone," Hermione hushed, placing her hands on Octavia's arms, calming her frantic friend. "They're all gone now."

A shaky sob escaped her lips as she shivered, still checking her hair for any signs of the creatures. Laughter was rumbling through the classroom, but Octavia only heard him. Draco.

He wasn't laughing like most other students in the classroom. Instead, he hissed a nearly inaudible word, so quiet she barely heard it.

 _Mudblood_.

Losing her nerve completely, Octavia's hazel eyes lit up with wrathful fury as she snatched the open jar of linchworms from her table, turning to face the prat behind her.

Draco remained stoic as ever, grey eyes regarding her coolly, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. Confirming her suspicions that he was the culprit in placing the insects into her hair.

"Fuck you," Octavia hissed, her venomous tone surprising all within ear-shot. Even Draco quirked his brow, appearing taken aback as he placed his hands in his pockets.

"Five points from Slytherin, Ms. Granger," Professor Snape scolded, his beady eyes on an enraged Octavia, nobody noticing the jar of worms in her shaky hand. "There will be no use of profanities in my classroom."

The foolishness that soared through her, however, did not dim in the slightest at her punishment. In fact, she barely even heard her Professor, for her fury was entirely consuming, all directed at her tormentor. It was only a matter of time before she snapped.

Octavia threw the entire contents of the jar right in Draco Malfoy's face, the whole classroom inhaling sharply and falling into a tense silence. Brown, murky water ran down his face, trickling off his clenched jaw as his eyes shut tight. His entire body, scattered with the moving worms, was tense with the fury that overwhelmed him, his eyes opening slowly as he stared into livid hazel orbs.

"Detention." Snape snipped, his voice unusually quiet as the thick atmosphere suffocated the room. "For both of you."

Draco's eyes shot icy daggers right at the wizard-born, but she held her head high, refusing to let the surge of fear and regret take hold within her. He deserved it. Still. She would pay for her actions, that was for sure.

Before Draco could recognise the increasing fear that shone in her hazel eyes, Octavia whipped around, facing her table as she slammed the jar down and re-seated herself huffily. Hermione's eyes were as wide as saucers as she stepped around Octavia's chair, moving to feign busyness with the cauldron flames.

The students took some time to come back from their shocked states, Harry and Ron being two of the first. While their expression conveyed fear for Octavia from her actions, their nervous chuckles added pride for the girl. But she barely heard it.

In fact, Octavia's ears were practically ringing as the reality of what she had just done hit her. Her bottom lip began to swell as she chewed it anxiously, her apprehensive hazel eyes glued to the chalkboard at the front of the class. Her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest, feeling molten grey eyes burning into the back of her head.

What the fuck was she thinking?

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair for Octavia, as it always was. She sat, as she always did, at the end of the Slytherin table, closest to the grand entrance of the Great Hall. Her plate was almost empty, Octavia pushing the rest of her potatoes around as she sighed. Her hazel eyes stared absentmindedly at the food scraps, feeling the burn of silver on the side of her face. she didn't have to check to know that Draco was staring at her again. By now, Octavia had developed an increased intuition when it came to him and his gazes.

Ignoring him, as she always did, Octavia dropped her fork onto her plate with a clang, moving to pull her schoolbag onto her lap. His silver eyes bore into the side of her pink cheek as she unzipped the bag and riffled around inside, searching for her father's letter. She couldn't hold it off any longer than she already had. It was agony to avoid reading the letter all day. Her thoughts had constantly come back to the envelope in her bag, her imagination running wild with the possibilities of what it contained. Of what her father had said.

And now, she would find out.

Despite the fact that she was clearly eager to read the letter, Octavia felt a trickle of dread course through her body at the prospect. For the letter could be a rejection of her suggestion. Her father may have just shut down her proposal of Cedric and his offer.

That was the primary reason for her hesitance to read it.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply in an effort to prepare herself, Octavia tossed her bag back on the floor, her shaky fingers moving to tear open the letter.

Her hazel eyes remained fixed on the letter, _his_ eyes burning a hole in her fucking cheeks. Seriously, did he have nothing better to do than watch her open and read a letter? Draco Malfoy definitely needed a hobby, she decided.

Actually, she thought with a frown, he did have a hobby. Tormenting her.

Pushing all thoughts of the prat out of her mind, Octavia scrapped the dregs of courage within her and unfolded the thick, expensive parchment in her hand.

.

 _Dear Octavia,_

 _I am delighted to read that you are taking an active interest in your future by suggesting we discuss your marriage prospects. At present, there are six offers on your contract, none of which I deem worthy. Perhaps, as your father, I am bias in my beliefs, but I do not consider your potential suitors to deserve your hand in marriage. This applies for several reasons, one of them being wealth (or lack of)._

 _Your dowry remains attractive and sufficient; however, I am concerned that it may be the cause for less wealthy gentlemen to pursue your contract. Therefore, I would feel more comfortable if your contract was purchased by a suitor from a wealthier family. As it happens, there has been a very recent discussion and potential offer for your hand in marriage as of this week. This potential offer has been presented by a suitor from a wealthier family, and a man whom I deem more than suitable for my only daughter._

 _In regards to your request to discuss such business, I accept. There is much to be addressed._

 _Your mother and I miss you dearly, and are both eagerly awaiting the Christmas break, therefore, your return home._

 _Kind Regards,_

 _Father._

.

Octavia's porcelain complexion paled even further as she read the letter, her lips parted as her heart rate picked up. This was definitely not the response she was hoping for. In fact, it was entirely unexpected. Another prospective offer? From a wealthier family?

That was impossible!

There were only three families in Britain wealthier than the Zabinis: Shacklebolts, Notts and Malfoys. The Shacklebolts did not participate in arranged marriages to sustain the ancient bloodlines, and they were never present at the frequent gatherings. And there was no direct heir to that family. So it could not be them.

The Notts. Well, they had a direct heir. They had Theodore. But Theo was currently engaged to Daphne Greengrass, although nothing was set in stone until the actual wedding. There was still plenty of time – one year, give or take – for contracts to be revisited and, in some cases, revoked. Although Octavia highly doubted it. Theo and Daphne had had their betrothal arrangement agreed upon since they were toddlers. Mrs Nott and Mrs Greengrass were best friends, and had been for decades. There was no way that their contract would become void.

Which left the demon. Draco Malfoy. His engagement to Astoria Greengrass was fairly new, having only been announced six years ago. While six years was actually a long time, in the world of pureblood engagements, it was not. Most contracts were cemented during the early years of childhood. Blaise's engagement to Pansy Parkinson was arranged when he was four years old!

In saying that, Draco Malfoy could definitely not be the suitor that her father referred to. Yes, he was wealthier than her. Her 100,000 galleons of dowry would be spare change to him, really. Inconsequential. But it was Draco Malfoy. He despised her and wizard-born status. He tormented and bullied her whenever he chose. He loathed her, plain and simple. So there was not a happy chance in Azkaban that he was the suitor her father had mentioned.

Which left only one plausible explanation. The offer came from outside of Britain.

While this news would have been music to Octavia's ears a few months ago, it was now like a Dementor's Kiss. Sucking the happiness and hope right out of her.

A few months ago, Octavia would have jumped at the offer her father spoke of. For it meant – given her assumptions were correct – that she would likely depart Britain and reside in another European country. Away from Draco. Away from the British Pureblood functions that took place twice a year.

It meant an escape from her incessant misery.

But now … Now it meant that Cedric and her could not be. Her father had not outright addressed or rejected her mention of Cedric, but she understood his letter all too well. An engagement with Cedric was out of the question. At least that's what her father was implying.

Little did her father know, Octavia would not give up without a fight.

* * *

Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder, making her way through the quiet corridors of the castle. Having spent the majority of the evening and night in the library, Hermione was closing in on walking through the castle after curfew. Although she was Head Girl, so it was not like she would be reprimanded for roaming the castle at night. Still. She was a stickler for the rules.

Her brown eyes were hooded by her heavy eyelids as she turned a corner, tiredness washing over her. Hermione hadn't exactly exerted herself that day, but her weariness came from her troubled sleep. The nightmares that assaulted her slumber almost nightly.

"House unity," Hermione spoke firmly, stopping as she arrived at the portrait to the Head Dormitories.

"Incorrect," the four animals in the portrait declared at once.

Hermione frowned, her gaze flicking between the four animals (a lion, a serpent, a badger and an eagle). Sighing she raised her hand and banged on the portrait frame loudly, the animals gasping in annoyance.

"So rude," the serpent hissed, slithering around the portrait.

"Blaise!" Hermione shouted, ignoring the snake and continuing to bang on the frame. "Open up!"

Stepping backwards, Hermione scowled as the portrait creaked open, Blaise standing in the doorway, eyeing her with amusement.

"You changed the password, then?" Hermione snapped, stomping into the common room, barging passed him as the portrait swung shut. "Thanks for telling me."

"It was a very recent change," Blaise drawled, strolling over to the sitting area.

Hermione scoffed, seating herself on the armchair, the warmth of the roaring fireplace heating her instantly.

"If you stopped giving the password to every Tom, Dick and Harry, you wouldn't have to change it all the time." Hermione snapped, reclining in the large armchair as Blaise seated himself on the sofa.

"I do not know a Tom," Blaise frowned. "And by 'Dick', do you mean –"

"No." Hermione bit, Blaise smirking in response. "Just stop giving out our password, ok?"

Blaise shrugged, removing a crystal tumbler from the coffee table, filled with fire whiskey. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the prohibited substance.

"So what's the new password?" Hermione sighed, kicking off her shoes.

"Muggle-born," Blaise smirked, swirling his tumbler leisurely.

Hermione didn't know whether to be surprised or offended as she gazed at him.

"Nobody will guess that password," Blaise explained, sipping at the fire whiskey.

"So somebody guessed the old password?" Hermione frowned, slipping off her cardigan.

"Indeed," Blaise scowled, Hermione scoffing at the sight.

It wasn't common for Blaise to have unwanted visitors to their common room, but it had happened once or twice before. To Hermione's knowledge, at least. Once, a fifth year Ravenclaw had gotten the password from her friend – who had incidentally been entertained on the sofa the night prior. The Ravenclaw girl arrogantly let herself into their common room and waited patiently for Blaise in his bed. To say he was irritated would be an understatement. Blaise was nothing if not particular. And he was very particular of who he brought into his bedroom.

In fact, Hermione could not recall a single occurrence where Blaise had taken a girl back to his bedroom. Was he hiding something in there? Or was he merely demonstrating the girls' insignificance to him? Probably the latter.

"Perhaps I should select the passwords from now on," Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples soothingly.

"I am not sure how I would feel about our password being some variation of 'Save The Elves!'," Blaise drawled, watching as her slender fingers massaged her temples gently.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of 'bigoted snake'," Hermione retorted, her eyes shut as her head began to throb painfully.

Surprisingly, Blaise did not provide her with a witty response. Instead, he stood and disappeared into his bedroom, the door not closing behind him. Hermione gazed at the ajar door curiously, frowning slightly as he reappeared, making his way back toward the sitting area. Her furrowed brows remained as he handed her a small blue vial, Hermione taking it from his fingers hesitantly.

"What's this?" Hermione asked, eyeing the vial suspiciously.

"Pain relief potion," Blaise responded nonchalantly, seating himself on the sofa once more. "A very expensive potion. You will only require a drop- two at most."

"Right," Hermione laughed, tossing the vial across the coffee table, Blaise catching it perfectly. "Like I'd trust anything you say or give me."

Blaise's eyes darkened as he stared at her, his fingers uncorking the vial swiftly. She watched as he raised the vial to his pink lips, taking a sip of the blue liquid, his eyes remaining on her the whole time.

"Satisfied?" Blaise asked, his tone icy as he recorked the small bottle.

Hermione pursed her lips as he tossed the vial back at her, his dark eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded her.

"It is customary to express gratitude when someone does favours for you," Blaise drawled, eyeing her coolly. "A mere 'thank you' would suffice."

"Consider this," Hermione smirked, raising the vial and shaking it a little for effect, "as your apology for the other day."

Blaise smirked, knowing that she was referring to his bit of manhandling during their patrol.

"Is my apology accepted?" Blaise teased, his brow quirking.

"No." Hermione smiled smugly, rising from the armchair. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, lioness." Blaise grinned, watching as she grabbed her schoolbag and strolled toward her bedroom. His dark eyes scanning over milky white legs hungrily.

* * *

Octavia had downright refused to return to her dormitories that night, opting to stay in the library with Hermione until it neared curfew. There was no fucking way she was going back to the snake pit after her little display in potions that morning. She would only be walking into her own personal hell if she returned. Not a chance.

But she could not delay the inevitable for much longer. In fact, she could not delay the inevitable for another minute. For she had detention with the prat she tossed vile liquid and insects on in potions class. Oh fuck.

Octavia could barely contain her palpable fear at encountering him again. Thankfully, she would be with a Professor, so she would have a little protection. Something that she wouldn't have in the Slytherin common room. On top of that, Hermione had suggested that Octavia spend the night in the Head Dormitories, allowing her a prolonged escape from the torture chamber. An offer that Octavia accepted instantly.

So her fear, while relentless, was a little soothed. For she would not be returning to the lack of protection that her common room offered her, and would be serving detention within eye-sight of a Professor. She was as safe as she could be.

Standing in the main foyer, Octavia picked at a loose piece of stone on the wall, waiting patiently for her detention to begin. It appeared that she had arrived first, despite the fact that she was ten minutes late to the meeting point. Groaning at the thought of spending the next hour with Draco Malfoy, Octavia placed her forehead on the rough stone wall as her eyes closed.

At times, she wished she could just run away from it all. From everything. From her father and his expectations of her and her duties to the Zabini family. From her horrible twin brother that apparently didn't have a set of balls when it came to Draco's torment of her. And to escape the biggest pain of all; Draco Malfoy.

How wonderful it would be if she could just run away. Perhaps to some tropical country, where she could spend the rest of her life living and partying with normal people. By normal, she meant people who were not absolute psychos.

Slow, heavy footsteps sounded out, Octavia pushing herself from the wall as she turned to identify the new occupant of the foyer. Her heart stopped and beat rapidly at the same time, if it were at all possible. Draco stepped casually up the staircase from the dungeons, his hands in his pockets, his cold grey eyes fixed on her fearful expression.

All she could hear in the dim atrium was the pounding of her own heart and Draco's footsteps. Despite her near-crippling fear, she noticed that he was alone. No Professor Snape in sight. Fuck.

"Where … where's Snape?" Octavia whispered, only just loudly enough for him to hear.

Draco's jaw clenched, his grey eyes storming as he approached her slowly. She took a step back, placing her hand on the stone wall, feeling miniscule as his tall figure neared.

"Professor Snape will not be joining us," Draco drawled, the iciness of his tone slicing through her. "It is just us."

Fuck. Definitely not good.


	14. Chapter 14

On her hands and knees, Octavia grimaced at the harshness of the tiles against her skin. She continued to scrub the ground, however, her knees surely bruising from the contact. The scruffy brush in her hand lathered with soap as she scrubbed the tiled floor of the Prefect bathroom, ignoring Draco's eyes on her. Apparently, Professor Snape had instructed that they both serve their detention by cleaning the private bathroom on the fourth floor by hand. Of course Draco, however, used magic to clean his end of the bathroom, and now took to sitting on the window seat, watching her scrub away.

Octavia was entirely oblivious to her delectable appearance in that moment, and the fact that Draco's cold grey eyes scanned over her body the entire time. He spent a solid twenty minutes staring at her raised, perk little bum as she scrubbed away, the shortness of her school skirt providing him with a spectacular view. He never took her as the type to wear black knickers. Not that he cared, or anything. And in that moment, Draco had the prime view of her cleavage – small but perky breasts from his visual assessment – as she scrubbed the floors in silence.

The silence between them was just as deafening as it had been for the past hour. A very long hour, in Octavia's opinion. Particularly due to the fact that she was certain he was goading her with silence before he would enact his retaliation. Retaliation for her assault in potions class that morning. If that was what he was doing, it was definitely working. Her nerves, already at an impossible high, only increased as the quiet minutes ticked by.

At times she would find herself scowling as she thought of what he would have in store for her, followed quickly by murmurs under her breath at Draco cheating his way through their detention. She was definitely irked that he got to just watch her scrub the floors like some common servant.

"You missed a spot," Draco drawled, eyeing her coolly as she sat on her knees.

Octavia used her forearm to wipe the glisten of sweat from her forehead, loose tendrils escaping her high bun, stuck to her face with sweat and soap residue.

"Where?" Octavia frowned, eyeing the area she was cleaning. It was pristine, almost glimmering with cleanliness from her efforts.

"That bit of filth, right there." Draco drawled, inclining his head at her.

Stupidly, Octavia frowned in confusion, her eyes scanning the clean floor around her. Not a speck of dirt. She craned her neck, twisting her body to check behind her to find that the floors were spotless.

"There's no dirt." Octavia mumbled, meeting his icy stare.

Draco slipped off the window seat, strolling toward her casually as their eyes remained connected. Her breath hitched as he stopped right in front of her, crouching down so that they were almost at eye-level.

"Right there," Draco stated, his tone laced with malice as he flicked her on the forehead.

Her hazel orbs remained in his gaze, dimming with sadness as her heart clenched wretchedly. Swallowing audibly, Octavia pressed her lips together, averting her eyes back to the glistening floor.

Suddenly, the taps to the extremely large bathtub – more like an indoor swimming pool – turned on, filling the tub with freezing cold water and multi-coloured bubbles. Octavia frowned as she peeked around Draco to the bathtub before righting herself and meeting his gaze, her eyes filled with confusion.

A gasp escaped her lips he grabbed her throat tightly and hauled her to her feet, slamming her up against the wall painfully. She grunted at the impact, her vision momentarily blurred, the back of her head throbbing with pain. Blinking back to clarity, Octavia's eyes lit up with fear as his grip on her neck tightened, his body pressed firmly against hers, pushing her further against the wall.

"Let go of me!" Octavia squealed, her hands shoving at his chest. He didn't budge in the slightest.

Fingernails dug into the smooth skin of her neck, Octavia wincing at the pain, ceasing her resistance instantly at the warning. Her glassy eyes pleaded silently with his molten grey orbs, his jaw clenched firmly as the rage radiated from his body. He was pressed so firmly against her that she was certain she could feel every single muscle in his chest, his thigh between her legs, lifting her off the ground. The tip of her toes only just grazed the damp floor beneath them, her frilly white socks dampening, her heart pounding violently in her chest as her breath quickened.

"Do you even realise how insignificant you are?" Draco hissed, his peppermint breath brushing against her parted lips as she struggled to breathe.

The grip on her neck was firm, but he allowed her room to breathe. Barely. Her hands gripped onto his wrist, tears escaping her wide eyes as she gazed up at him with palpable terror.

"Even if you were magical," Draco seethed, his grey orbs alight with raw rage, "you are nothing more than a possession; something to be owned. A glorified house-elf."

Octavia's bottom lip trembled, tears trickling down her pale cheeks as a whimper escaped her, never experiencing anger of this extent from Draco before. His words had a greater impact on her that she would like to admit. For it was something she considered for some time now. And somehow, it caused her great agony to hear it from him. Someone she used to adore. Someone who used to adore her.

His face inched toward hers, his molten grey eyes boring down at her intensely, her body trembling against his. The grip on her neck tightened, holding her firmly in place as he brushed his soft lips against hers, Octavia whimpering in response.

"I could buy you," Draco whispered, his tone low and dangerous, sending shivers through her spine. "Just another purchase. That is what you are; a purchase. And I could do anything I wish to you, for you would be _mine_."

Tears streamed down her cheeks, her breaths ragged and shaky as he spoke against her lips, her fingers gripping onto his arm tightly. The fear that surged through her was almost crippling in its intensity, but the agony almost matched it. For what he said was true. Every fucking word of it.

A sob escaped her lips, but it wasn't heard, for Draco swallowed it.

His lips crashed against hers harshly, her eyes shutting tight as his tongue delved into her mouth, the taste of her salty tears coating his tongue. Her fingernails tore at his arm skin, but if he felt it, he didn't show it. His kiss only hardened, his tongue dominating her mouth as she whimpered, Draco swallowing her protests greedily.

His muscular body pressed even further against hers if possible, her back pushed harshly against the wall of the Prefect bathroom. Her skull was aching from the pressure of the wall against it, Draco emitting a low groan into her mouth as he kissed her brutally, surely bruising her swollen lips.

Possessively, Draco's tongue explored her mouth, each flick over hers emphasising his words. That she was merely something to be owned. A possession.

After what seemed like an eternity of horror, he ended the kiss, their lips still connected as she cried. Slowly, his soft, damp lips brushed against hers once again, travelling across her smooth skin, stopping at the centre of her cheek.

"That is just a taste of what I can do if I purchase you, Octavia." Draco whispered against her skin, her body trembling as her face scrunched up. "And you can do nothing about it, for you are nothing more than a possession."

His lips pressed against her cheek softly, placing a gentle, mocking kiss on the skin as her tears wet his lips. Breathing harshly, her glassy eyes opened slowly as he trailed his lips back to hers, his molten grey eyes boring into her pained hazel orbs. A quiet sob escaped her as he spat on her lips, Octavia grimacing as his saliva trickled down her chin.

"That is what you are," Draco mocked cruelly, his voice low and barely audible. "Worthless."

A gasp escaped her lips as yanked her from the wall by the throat, dragging her over to the grand bathtub. He pulled her against his chest once more, looking down at her with furious eyes as she sobbed, her nails raking at his hand that clasped around her throat.

"What are you?" Draco asked icily.

"A poss - ess - ion," Octavia sobbed, the vision of him blurred by her hot tears.

"Good girl," Draco whispered, his breath brushing over her swollen lips as she whimpered.

Octavia squealed as his grip tightened before he threw her back with brutal strength, her body colliding with the icy water of the bathtub. He watched as the water swallowed her whole before he turned and stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

Tottering through the eerie corridors of the castle, Octavia snivelled as she wrapped her arms around herself. The relentless tears fell out of her anguished hazel eyes, trickling down her cheeks, only to get lost in the water that drenched her.

After she had climbed out of the bathtub in the Prefect bathroom, Octavia wasted no time in abandoning her detention sentence and making her way through the castle to the Head Dormitories. Thankfully, Hermione had offered to share her bed with O that night, following her foolish act in potions class. An act that she sure as fuck paid for during detention.

Even so, Octavia downright refused to return to her own dormitories, fearing further retaliation. It wasn't an unlikely prospect, so she sobbed as she stumbled down the dimly lit corridor, hugging herself as icy water soaked her entire body. Her wet curls were plastered to the sides of her soaked face, her school uniform completely drenched. Her black heels squelched with every step she took, her white shirt now almost-transparent as she hiccupped and snivelled. Thankfully she had worn a white bra that day. _The silver lining,_ as her mother would say. She almost scoffed. Almost.

Octavia was too submerged in her own melancholy and self-pity to feel anything other than that. Except gratitude and a glimmer of relief, of course. For her best friend, Hermione, allowed her a little escape from her own personal hell. She allowed her the sanctuary of the Head Dormitories.

Stopping at the portrait of four animals, Octavia wiped the snot away from her nose.

"House unity," Octavia croaked, her voice strained from her sobs.

"Incorrect," the animals grumbled, evidently annoyed at being awoken from their slumber.

Octavia frowned, absolutely certain that Hermione had said the password was 'house unity'. So she tried it again.

"House unity," Octavia repeated, her voice a little clearer than before.

"It was wrong then and it is wrong now," the lion growled, rolling onto its back on the grassy field.

The other animals hummed in agreeance, the snake hissing at her for interrupting their slumber.

Absolutely sopping wet, a puddle of water at her feet, Octavia trembled from the cold that sliced at her skin, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. It was much too late for her to be wandering around the castle, and she was almost certain that Hermione would be asleep by now given the hour.

Her hazel orbs eyed the portrait door longingly before she snivelled. Raising her hand, she curled it into a fist and knocked on the frame of the portrait, the animals groaning in response.

There was no answer.

Again, Octavia tried her luck and rapped her fist on the door, praying to Merlin that Hermione somehow heard it and let her in. The last thing she wanted in that moment was to return to the Slytherin common room in her current state; drenched from head-to-toe and crying like a child.

"Ninny," Octavia whined, hiccupping the moment after.

After no response came, other than the murmurs of the annoyed animals, Octavia's face scrunched up as a fresh wave of tears assaulted her. A whimper escaped her damp, bruised lips as she turned, about to make her way back to the snake pit she hated so much. But, much to her relief, the portrait door swung open, Octavia spinning back around, her arms wrapped around herself as she shivered from the cold.

Her brother stood in the threshold, his dark eyes flashing with shock before settling on concern, his brow furrowed. Blaise sighed deeply, stepping out of the doorway, approaching a crying Octavia, his expression one of pity. Octavia sobbed as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her soaked body against his as he hushed her gently. Her body trembled violently from the cold, her forehead resting on his collarbone as he held her tightly.

"Come on," Blaise said softly, unwrapping his arms from around her.

Octavia followed her twin through the portrait door, the warmth of the common room washing over her freezing body instantly. But it wasn't enough. Her teeth began to clatter together, her body shivering as she still hugged herself.

Blaise made his way through the common room toward his bedroom door, Octavia following him meekly, tears escaping her eyes. Although she was almost certain that she was running dry of tears, having cried so much in the past hour.

The bedroom door closed behind her, Blaise riffling through a set of drawers, his back to her.

"Here," Blaise said, turning and handing her a pair of black sweatpants and a cashmere sweater. "The bathroom is in there." Blaise motioned his head toward another door as Octavia's shaky hands took the clothes from him. "Take a shower and warm yourself up. You can sleep in my bed tonight. I'll sleep on the couch downstairs."

Octavia snivelled as she nodded, grateful for his compassion. Something that her brother had not shown her in quite some time.

Blaise stepped toward her, closing the distance between them as he hugged her again.

"You need to stay away from him." Blaise whispered before removing his arms from around her.

"It doesn't make a difference," Octavia croaked, droplets of water dripping onto the carpet.

Blaise sighed, running his fingers through his thick, black hair as he eyed his pitiful looking sister before him.

"I know." Blaise said almost sadly before exiting the room to the common area, where he would immediately write to his father.

Blaise was determined to have his sister removed from Hogwarts, even if it meant placing Octavia in a less than favourable light with his parents.

* * *

Octavia yawned loudly, stretching her arms above her head before slumping in her chair. The excited chatter of the Great Hall buzzed around her grandly, but she did not succumb to the celebratory atmosphere. Her mind was a foggy daze, her body tired and aching in several places.

Following Draco's attack on her the night prior, Octavia's neck was scattered with purple bruises in the shape of fingertips, her lips swollen and red. Not only that, her entire body still ached from her collision with the wall and icy water in the Prefect bathroom. Worst of all, however, her mind was most injured.

Everything that he had said during their detention was true. She was a potential purchase, available to the highest bidder. While Octavia was the one with the dowry, the payment for her contract would be wealth and connections. It would status and reputation. So Draco could buy her if he wished. She just thanked Merlin that he would never unite with a wizard-born. For if he would, her father would definitely consider his offer. The only issue that would cause her father to hesitate in sealing the deal was her hatred of Draco. Although sentiments shared between the betrothed hardly mattered. It wasn't a unity formed of love. It was formed of status, wealth and power.

Why was she even thinking about that though? It wasn't like it would ever happen!

Draco would never sully his name with a magically challenged wife. The thought was downright absurd.

Shoving all thoughts of Draco and his actions out of her mind, Octavia plastered a tight smile on her swollen lips as Hermione took a seat across from her, her brown eyes bloodshot and red.

"Good morning," Ninny mumbled, immediately grabbing the pot of coffee from the table and filling her mug to the brim.

"Morning," every replied in unison, Ron spitting the greeting with a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"How was detention, O?" Hermione asked weakly, her weariness evident in her tired tone.

"Pretty shit," Octavia mumbled, placing a heaped spoonful of strawberries into her bowl.

"What happened?"

"The usual," Octavia shrugged, avoiding a detailed recount of her near-traumatic experience with Draco.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she scanned Octavia's appearance, only just noticing the scattered bruises on her neck and the redness of her swollen lips.

"O," Hermione gasped, the reality of the situation just hitting her. "What did he do?"

Octavia bit her lip as she fixed her gaze on her bowl of strawberries, pushing the fruit around with her spoon lazily.

"Nothing," Octavia murmured, her hazel eyes dimming as the memories flashed in her mind again.

"Don't lie to me, O. Look at you," Hermione whispered sadly, leaning across the table so that the oblivious Ron and Harry didn't pick up on their conversation.

"He just … showed me my place," Octavia bit, her brows furrowed as her heart ached horridly.

"Did he …" Hermione gasped, her concerned brown eyes widening as the implication hung in the air.

"No," Octavia shook her head, resting her chin on the heel of her hand.

"You have to go to Professor Snape about him," Hermione sighed, slumping back in her chair. "This can't continue."

Octavia only pursed her lips in response, her brow furrowed as she considered the suggestion. It wasn't like she had never thought of ratting him out to a teacher before, because she had. Countless times. But each time she considered it, she was reminded of the consequences. Firstly, not much could be done about it. He would serve a handful of detentions, or lose his position on the Quidditch team in the most severe case of discipline. If either of those were to occur, Octavia would suffer tremendously. Draco would continue his assault, increased tenfold, whether it be at Hogwarts or during the holidays. There was no escape from him.

Her only escape was marriage. For the moment she became the wife of another, he would have to respect that and leave her be. Any issues he had with her would henceforth be dealt with by her husband. She would be entirely off limits and protected.

"Maybe," Octavia sighed, lying through her teeth.

Hermione sensed the lie, her lips thinning as she eyed her friend sternly. But Octavia deflected the attention.

"I came to your dorms after," Octavia scowled, watching as Hermione's eyes flashed with realisation. "The password was wrong."

"Oh God," Hermione groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. "I'm so sorry, O. Blaise changed it and I forgot to tell you. He gave me this headache potion and, next thing I know, I'm out cold for the whole night. I'm so sorry."

"It's ok," Octavia smiled weakly, filling her own mug with black coffee. "Blaise let me in. I stayed in his room."

"Really?" Hermione asked, her brow quirked in surprise.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded.

"Did he say anything about what happened to you?"

"Just to stay away from Draco."

Hermione hummed in disapproval, rather peeved that Blaise's reaction only consisted of obvious, yet ineffective advice. If it were her sibling in the firing line of Draco … Well, needless to say, her reaction would be much more severe. Or would it? For what could really be done? The only person, according to Octavia, who had the power to end his torment of her was himself. Draco was the only one who could stop the bullying. And he seemed to have no desire to cease his actions in the slightest.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade today?" Octavia asked, eager to change the subject from her misery.

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "But I'm going with Blaise."

Octavia choked on her coffee, sputtering on the bitter liquid as she gaped at her friend.

"Not like that," Hermione scoffed. "We have to organise the Halloween Ball, and it's the only time our schedules fit without it being too late."

"Oh," Octavia laughed, cupping her warm mug in her hands.

"We only have a week to book a band and start on the posters," Hermione explained, her tone slipping into importance. "And we have yet to agree on a theme."

"A theme?" Octavia asked, lighting up spectacularly.

"I'm insisting on a fairy-tale theme." Hermione nodded. "Your brother, on the other hand, is quite determined to avoid incorporating muggle culture into the theme."

"Really?" Octavia frowned, her nose scrunching up.

It surprised her slightly, for Blaise had never been outwardly against muggles or their culture. Her family did not uphold the prejudices that accompanied blood purity. Her parents would surely have a fit if they knew of his prejudicial behaviour.

"He is decided on having a solely magical themed ball," Hermione murmured.

"And you're just gonna let him choose for you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Good," Octavia beamed, her excitement for the Halloween Ball soaring.

The morning mail delivery began, owls of all shapes, colours and sizes swooping into the Great Hall through the open windows high up on the walls. Octavia's hazel eyes immediately scanned the mass of birds that flocked around above, searching for the familiar black eagle that belonged to her father. A smile tugged on her lips as she spotted it soaring around the Slytherin table, clearly looking for her, before flying higher to continue its search.

The eagle carried one letter, evidently from her father, but no parcels or presents. A little dejected, Octavia puckered her lips as the eagle spotted her and soared swiftly in her direction.

Landing on the table elegantly, the eagle straightened and stood importantly as she set to untying the letter from his claw. The moment it was removed, the eagle took off and soared away, causing Octavia to frown slightly. Usually the eagle remained in her company for a few moments, helping itself to her foot and water. Shrugging dismissively, Octavia ripped open the white envelope, her head tilting at its contents; another envelope. Only this one was crimson red.

Oh fuck.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

A howler.

Snatching the howler quickly, Octavia jumped from her seat at the Gryffindor table and made to begin her escape from the bustling Great Hall. But she just wasn't quick enough.

"OCTAVIA ZABINI!" The howler roared, flying out of her hand, her father's furious voice booming around the now-silent Great Hall.

Her skin paled as the howler soared above her, Octavia sitting back down slowly, shirking into her seat, her horrified eyes fixed on the envelope. She could practically feel Draco's cold eyes on her once more, but she couldn't check to be sure. Her terrified gaze was glued to the howler.

"I AM UTTERLY OUTRAGED AT YOUR APPALLING BEHAVIOUR, YOUNG LADY! TO BE INFORMED THAT YOUR DAUGHTER ESSENTIALLY _ASSAULTED_ THE MALFOY HEIR DURING CLASS IS MOST HUMILIATING AND UNACCEPTABLE! I HAVE HALF A MIND TO REMOVE YOU FROM THAT SCHOOL _TODAY_! YOUR MOTHER IS SIMPLY BESIDE HERSELF AT YOURS DISGRACEFUL ACTIONS! HAVE YOU NO SHAME? THIS WILL BE DEALT WITH ACCORDINGLY, MARK MY WORDS YOUNG LADY! AND YOU CAN FORGET THE DISCUSSION OF YOUR CONTRACTS, OCTAVIA! YOU ARE CLEARLY INCAPABLE OF EXERCISING MATURITY, THEREFORE YOUR CHILDISH DESIRES WILL BE DISREGARDED FROM NOW ON! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Shaking in her seat, Octavia gazed up at the roaring howler, her glassy eyes wide with terror. Her face flushed with humiliation as everyone in the Great Hall watched the scene intently.

"THERE IS NO USE CRYING OVER IT, OCTAVIA! YOUR TANTRUMS AND TEARS WILL HAVE NO EFFECT ON MY DECISION WHATSOEVER! YOU HAVE SEALED YOUR OWN FATE!"

Tears streamed down her bright red face, her lips parted as she gaped stupidly at the howler, her fingers gripping onto the sides of her chair.

The howler made a sound, evidently her furious father clearing his throat.

"Your mother and I wish you well, and look forward to seeing you over the Christmas break. Love, father."

With that, the red envelope shredded itself, the scraps of paper raining down on the table before her. Frozen in place, Octavia shook slightly as she gazed stupidly at the red paper, her heart beating a mile a second. And then the entire Slytherin table erupted into a roar of laughter, even some of the Ravenclaws sniggering away at her expense.

Hesitantly, Octavia raised her wide eyes from the remnants of the howler, locking with grey at the Slytherin table. He was not laughing, unlike most others at the table of snakes. His hard eyes penetrated hers, Octavia recognising the glint of victory in the swarm of grey. His expression remained stoic as he picked up his goblet and took a sip from it lazily, his cold eyes never leaving hers.

Blaise, seated beside Draco, stood from his chair, turning and striding out of the Great Hall, rubbing his hands over his face as he went. Octavia tore her eyes from Draco's penetrative stare, watching her twin leave as tears rolled down her cheeks. In that moment, she realised; Blaise had told on her.

Exhaling a shaky breath, Octavia stood from her chair, all eyes on her. The walk from her chair to the grand doors of the Great Hall was probably the longest to date. She could feel everyone watching her, each step closer to the door appearing to create more distance between her and her escape. But finally, she reached the doors, slipping through and breathing shakily as she made her way to the library.

It was really the only place she could go in that moment. So there, she went. For anywhere was better than the Great Hall.


	15. Chapter 15

Octavia bit her lip as her wide hazel eyes drank in the vast collection of books on the shelves. The Hogwarts library had been a constant sanctuary for her over the years, but she had never ventured down to the Muggle Section before. It took her an entire fifteen minutes to find the aisles dedicated to muggle literature, and a further ten to locate the shelf that contained fairy-tales.

Perhaps it was abnormal for someone to lose themselves in the aisles of a library, a few hours after receiving a howler from a furious parent. But for Octavia, in that moment, the distraction provided her with a brilliant sense of comfort. Her brain had momentarily forgotten the howler and Draco's attack, allowing her to feel perfectly at ease as she eyed the massive bookshelf interestedly.

A book about grim siblings caught her attention, finding the title to be rather strange. Who would have fairy-tales about gloomy brothers? Her curiosity had certainly peaked.

Reaching up on her tip-toes, Octavia grunted as her aching body stretched, her fingertips brushing against the spine of the hardback. Biting her lip, her brow furrowed as she groaned, desperately trying to reach the book.

Suddenly, Octavia's entire body froze as she felt a warm breath brush through her curls, tickling her ear. A pale hand appeared above her, soft fingers brushing against hers and grasping the book effortlessly. It wasn't that she recognised his hand, but more that she recognised his marble-like complexion.

Instantly, her heart began to beat wildly in her chest, willing the fear – and pureblood prat – to fuck off. Neither did.

Holding the book of fairy-tales, the hand moved away and disappeared behind her. But Octavia could feel his presence now, his breath brushing against her curls. While his hand was no longer in sight, he had not retreated.

Attempting to prepare herself for whatever torture he had planned for her that day, Octavia inhaled deeply before turning to face the stoic aristocrat. Surprisingly, however, he merely regarded her coolly, his icy eyes penetrating her apprehensive orbs as he handed her the book in his grasp. She didn't notice the strand of her hair peeking out of his pocket as her shaky hands hesitantly took the offered book.

Draco stood before her, clad head-to-toe in his Quidditch gear, specks of mud and dirt scattering the other-wise pristine uniform. Even his jawline was marked with earth residue, suggesting that he had just returned from Quidditch practice.

The very moment Octavia clutched the book against her chest, Draco placed his hand on the shelf behind her, stepping towards her as she stumbled back into the shelf. His body was close to hers- too close. His breath brushed against her face as she gazed up at him in a mixture of impatience and fear.

"Why are you not at Hogsmeade?" Draco asked coolly, his icy stare penetrating her fucking soul.

Octavia resisted the urge to scoff in his face, reigning in her surges of foolishness with all of her might.

"Not feeling up to it," Octavia muttered, the hint of sarcasm lacing her words.

"Instead, you choose to indulge yourself in a bit of light reading of the muggle variety?" Draco drawled, his brow quirked as she swallowed. "Are you preparing an escape to a society that better suits your mundane nature?"

"I'm not the only one in the Muggle Section," Octavia mumbled, averting her eyes the moment that the foolish words escaped her swollen lips.

Draco's pink lips, swollen from his assault the previous night, twisted into a cruel smirk as his cold eyes regarded her.

"My motive for venturing here is little more forgivable," Draco whispered, his face inching toward hers.

Not wanting a repeat of the night before, Octavia turned her head to the side, his lips connecting with her cheek instead of his intended target. A shiver ran down her spine as he kissed her cheek gently, apparently now under the impression that he could assault her whenever he so desired.

"Malfoy?" A sickly sweet voice called out from the maze of nearby shelves.

"Ah," Draco smirked, his lips brushing against her cheek at the movement. "It appears that my _motive_ has arrived."

Draco pushed himself from the shelf and Octavia, stepping backwards as hurried footsteps approached.

"Malfoy?" The voice sang out again, Octavia recognising the sickening sound to be Lavender Brown's voice.

Octavia's eyes tore away from a smirking Draco who faced her, his muscular body accentuated by his tight Quidditch gear. Instead, her gaze focused on the blonde, curly haired girl that entered the aisle, stopping as she spotted her target. Although Octavia saw the bitterness flash across Lavender's face as she noticed Octavia, Draco staring at the wizard-born, not even acknowledging Lavender's arrival.

"Gross," Octavia mumbled, scurrying out of the aisle, pushing past Lavender as she fled the scene as quickly as her legs would carry her.

* * *

Hermione sighed in impatience as she placed the empty butterbeer bottle on the rickety table top. Checking her watch for the umpteenth time, she realised with an air of vexation that Blaise would not be meeting her as promised. She had waited alone at Hogshead Tavern for the better part of an hour now, no Blaise in sight. He better hope that he had a damn good excuse for standing her up.

Well, not 'standing her up' per se. It wasn't as though this was a _date_ or anything.

Still. Hermione was filled with injustice and anger at the inconvenience he had caused her. She could have been spending the day with Octavia in Hogsmeade, cheering her friend up after her horrendous detention and howler. Instead, she sat in the dank pub alone, wasting her Saturday. Wasting her time.

Hermione was a busy girl, what with her diligent study rituals, patrols and friend duties. On top of that, she was the organiser of the tutoring nights in the library, every Tuesday and Thursday evenings after dinner. So her indignation at her having her valuable time wasted was only increased, due to the precious nature of her crammed schedule. No doubt, Blaise would provide her with some lame excuse – if she was lucky to even get one – and expect her to create time for him once again.

Which she would do, albeit, begrudgingly. For Hermione could not stand to leave things until the last minute. And as the days ticked by, they were nearing the entirely unorganised Halloween Ball. A Ball that, under Hermione's control, would be grand and spectacular. For she was nothing, if not a perfectionist.

* * *

A scowl graced her pretty face as the occupants of a nearby table erupted into raucous laughter, evidently enjoying their Saturday afternoon in the library. But it was hardly enjoyable for _her_ when they would not shut up. The library was supposed to be a place of quiet. Apparently they didn't get the memo.

If she wasn't such a damn coward, Octavia would march over to the desk and yell at the occupants to shut the fuck up. Alas, she was a coward, and she sure as hell wasn't about to tell Theo, Draco and Blaise to be quiet. So she put up with it, for it was the only thing she could do.

Tucking a loose curl behind her ear, Octavia sighed as she reclined in the wooden chair. Luna sat across from her, humming splendidly as she read Octavia's fairy-tale book with mild interest.

"What a lovely story," Luna sighed, closing the book as a soft smile graced her lips.

"Which one?" Octavia asked, leaning over the table and snatching the book.

"Cinderella," Luna chimed as Octavia flipped through the pages.

"What's it about?" Octavia asked after realising the length of the story. She wasn't in the mood to begin reading it at that moment- her laziness was too great.

"A sweet girl tormented by her stepsisters and stepmother," Luna answered, pulling the latest edition of _The Quibbler_ toward her. "The girl, Cinderella, has a happy ending with the prince and the sisters have their eyes gouged out and cut off parts of their feet. A splendid tale."

Octavia's eyes widened, gazing cautiously at Luna as her friend resumed her previous humming. In that moment, Octavia questioned the hell out of Luna's sanity.

Rumbling laughter came from the desk of Slytherins once again, Octavia glowering at Theodore as he roared loudly. It was so fucking annoying.

Although maybe the extent of the irritation was due to her own misery. Octavia didn't really like others laughing and enjoying themselves around her when she was so dejected. It didn't seem fair, really. So why should others get to be happy, when she didn't?

As though sensing her attention, Draco's grey eyes snapped toward her, locking her hazel orbs in a fierce gaze. Instantly, her glower transformed into a wide-eyed innocent expression before she averted her gaze to her fairy-tale book.

"Are you going to write to your dad?" Luna asked, skim-reading an article on blibbering humdingers.

Octavia sighed, placing her hands over her face as she slumped in the chair, Draco's penetrative stare still fixed on her. But she ignored that.

"I dunno," Octavia groaned, dropping her hands onto her lap in defeat. "What can I say, really?"

Being Luna, the girl merely offered a sad smile in response. Great. Thanks for the advice, Luna!

"It's not so bad, is it?" Luna chimed. "Your dad was going to choose a suitor for you anyway."

Octavia only shrugged her shoulders.

"I suppose you were hoping for your husband to be Cedric, though." Luna sighed, flicking the crisp page of _The Quibbler_.

"What makes you think that?" Octavia scoffed.

"Oh, I just assumed that you liked him." Luna replied, distracted by the apparently fascinating article on ghouls in Barbados.

"He's hot," Octavia murmured.

"Yes, he is quite handsome."

"And nice."

"Mm," Luna hummed in agreeance, continuing to read the article intently.

"He … would be a good husband." Octavia added, her brows furrowed as she attempted to ignore the intense stare from Draco.

"Yes," Luna nodded.

"Like … he would respect me, you know?" Octavia continued. "I think he'd let me have … like, an opinion. About my life."

"Hmm?" Luna hummed, meeting her friend's pensive eyes.

"I don't think he'd make me do anything I wasn't ready for, you know? Like have kids and stuff really early."

"Do you not want children?"

"I do," Octavia frowned. "I mean, I _think_ I do. I dunno. It's always just been … decided for me. I kind of have to have them, so I don't really know. But I don't think he'd make me have any kids early on in the marriage."

"That's why you like him?"

"No," Octavia shook her head.

"What is it you like about him?"

"I … uh …" Octavia mumbled, biting her lip as she thought. "A lot of things, I guess. Like … he's really attractive."

"Yes," Luna nodded, her curious gaze fixed on her wizard-born friend. "You said that."

"He respects me and he's nice to me. So … yeah." Octavia finished lamely.

Luna tilted her head, her sparkly blue eyes regarding her friend with mild interest as Octavia stared at the desk between them.

"You know," Luna sang, her tone gentle, "sometimes crushes don't develop into anything more than that. Sometimes people can feel romantically toward a person when they feel rejected and hurt by others."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Octavia scowled, meeting her friend's gaze.

"While he is a good person, maybe Cedric isn't the right man for you," Luna shrugged lightly.

"He is." Octavia said with confidence, her chin raised slightly.

Luna smiled sympathetically, her blue eyes twinkling with knowledge as Octavia frowned. Sometimes O had no bloody clue what went on in that girl's head.

Theo's booming laugh resounded through the study area once more, Luna and Octavia glancing over at the table of Slytherins, the latter wearing a scowl on her face.

"I wish they'd piss off," Octavia mumbled, her hazel eyes refusing to meet Draco's.

"They are having fun," Luna smiled, turning her gaze back to her moody friend.

"Yeah, well they can have it elsewhere." Octavia grumbled, her narrowed eyes fixed on the back of her brother's head as he chuckled.

"O," Luna whispered, her blue eyes fixed on something behind Octavia.

"What?" Octavia frowned, craning her neck to follow Luna's gaze.

Professor Diggory walking right towards them, his eyes on O.

"Miss Zabini," Professor Diggory smiled, approaching the table.

"Hi, Sir." Octavia smiled, ignoring the fact that the table of Slytherin boys had focused their attention on her interaction with the faculty member.

"I wonder if you could come by my office at seven-thirty tonight," Professor Diggory requested, his tone perfectly professional. "There are some issues with your assignment that I would like to discuss with you."

"Oh," Octavia nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"Until then," Cedric clipped before continuing on his way into the aisles of the extensive library.

Octavia found it incredibly difficult to resist the smile that threatened to grace her face as the Professor disappeared into the aisles of the library. For her last submitted assignment had already been returned and graded with an 'Acceptable' two weeks prior. So she knew full well that their meeting was not on the topic of her essay. For there was none to discuss.

While Octavia wasn't necessarily smiling, however, her hazel eyes held a glint of happiness that they did not possess mere moments ago.

A glint that Draco Malfoy noticed instantly. Before he leaned across the table and whispered quiet commands to Theodore Nott who nodded in agreeance.

* * *

Carrying two mugs of steaming black coffee, Blaise strolled over to the table in the corner of the common room, approaching the muggle-born witch. As he placed the mugs down in the centre of the desk, she didn't even glance up at him or murmur a thanks. He wasn't surprised, however. Hermione had been ignoring his existence from the moment they returned to the Head Dormitories after dinner that evening. He couldn't really blame her, in all honesty. But he would never admit that, especially not to her.

Blaise seated himself in the wooden chair across from the evidently stressed Head Girl, her brown curls framing her face spectacularly as she scribbled down notes on flower arrangements for the Ball. It appeared, given her refusal to acknowledge him, that she had taken it upon herself to decide on the details of the Ball without him.

Feigning indifference of Hermione snubbing him so obviously, Blaise hummed as he snatched the parchment she was currently writing on, pulling it toward himself as his dark eyes scanned her messy notes.

"Excuse you." Hermione hissed, grabbing the parchment from his hand.

"Carnations?" Blaise mocked, his brow quirked as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Really, Granger? I knew that you lacked taste, but I wasn't aware of just how severe this issue was."

"They're lovely flowers," Hermione bit through gritted teeth.

"They are nature's cliché." Blaise drawled, inspecting his nails nonchalantly. "The lisianthus bud would be more appropriate."

"Don't you have broom closet to occupy, or something?" Hermione sighed, discreetly crossing out 'carnations' on the parchment.

"Recreational activities will have to be placed on hold until I see to my duties," Blaise smirked, watching with dark eyes as Hermione bristled somewhat. "Unless that is an offer? In which case, the sofa will be much more comfortable."

"You should have seen to your duties at the time we agreed upon," Hermione muttered, ignoring his provocative words as she scribbled down 'lisianthus flowers'. It was a good suggestion, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

"I was indisposed," Blaise shrugged casually, smirking as she scoffed. "Draco called a last-minute team practice."

"Good for him. But you could have let me know."

"Like I said," Blaise smirked. "It was short notice."

She didn't respond. Hermione picked up her mug, taking a small sip of the coffee before placing it down on the desk and resuming her note-taking.

"Am I allowed to assist you now?" Blaise drawled, his tone mocking her self-importance.

"Assist away." Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "You can arrange the entertainment and decorations."

"Are we splitting the duties now?" Blaise smirked, taking great pleasure in baiting her. "That hardly expresses _house-unity_."

"Nor does making arrangements with the Head Girl from a rivalling house, only to not show up."

"As I explained, Draco –" Blaise drawled before Hermione interrupted him.

"– called a last minute practice." Hermione mocked, shaking her head in disappointment. "Merlin forbid you deny him of anything."

Blaise quirked his brow as his eyes darkened, observing the incredulous expression on the muggle-born's pretty face.

"Tell me, Zabini," Hermione smirked, "does Malfoy wipe his own ass, or do you do that for him?"

"Careful, Granger." Blaise warned, his eyes darkening as his jaw clenched. "You are beginning to irritate me."

"Oh?" Hermione gaped in feigned shock. "I apologise; that was not my intention."

"What was your intention, Granger?" Blaise asked coolly.

"I merely meant to imply that you're so far up Malfoy's ass that I doubt you can tell your own head from his." Hermione smiled falsely.

"Is that all?" Blaise clipped, his darkened eyes swarming with anger, his jaw clenching tightly.

"Yes," Hermione sniffed, a smirk tugging at her full lips. "Well, that and the obvious fact that you're so afraid of Malfoy that you can't seem to do anything without his approval."

"Afraid?" Blaise growled, his upper lip curling in disgust. "You think I fear Draco?"

"No," Hermione laughed. "I _know_ you fear him."

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, Blaise had soared out of his chair, flicking his hand and had Hermione flying across the room. His lip twitched as she connected with the wall, his spell gluing her to the spot as he stormed towards her. Despite her frozen state, he could see that she was winded from the impact, her chest only _just_ moving as she breathed harshly.

Beneath his fury he felt a twinge of regret, but the sensation was quickly pushed down as he approached her. Slamming his hands against the wall on either side of her head, Blaise pressed his body against hers, his face a mere inch from her own.

Brown eyes stared into his, alight with fury and indignation, only a speck of fear decipherable to him. But it was not enough to subdue him in that moment.

"Make no mistake of it, Granger," Blaise snarled, his nose almost touching hers as she stared at him defiantly. "I fear no one and nothing. You would be wise to hold your tongue, lest you lose it."

Her body was rigid from his wandless and nonverbal spell, preventing her speaking. But her brown orbs spoke a thousand responses. All of which went along similar lines; _fuck you, coward_.

"You Gryffindors are all alike," Blaise growled, his dark eyes penetrating her fierce brown orbs. "Even ones such as yourself cannot comprehend that the world is not black and white. You cannot understand the grey, for you cannot see it. With ignorance comes foolishness, Granger. And you are the biggest fool I have encountered. For your narrow, little mind cannot see the difference between politics and fear. Between preservation and cowardice."

Blaise raised his hand slowly, his eyes remaining connected with her furious orbs as his index finger trailed down her cheek softly.

If looks could kill, Blaise would be disintegrated into nothing but ash. Alas, they could not.

His hand cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing over her plump lips as he kept his gaze with hers. Despite the fury in her eyes, he continued to caress her lips with the pad of his thumb, his own lips twisting into a mocking smirk before he pushed himself away. Flicking his hand once, the spell was removed from her body, Hermione stumbling before she righted herself.

Before she even composed herself, Hermione's hand shot out and slapped him with brutal force across his now-pink cheek.

"If you ever fucking touch me again," Hermione seethed, squaring up to him as his head remained turned to the side from the slap, "I will hex off your precious jewels while you sleep, _snake_."

Blaise kept his head turned to the side, his fists clenched tightly, his body tense with rage and shock as she barged past him. Surprisingly, the Head Girl did not retreat to her bedroom like he had expected.

Instead, she planted herself back in the chair at the desk and huffed audibly before snatching her quill much too aggressively. She didn't even look up as Blaise turned and strode out of the common room, departing the shared area in favour of the Slytherin dungeons.

He was much too furious to be around the mudblood in that moment.

* * *

Arriving fifteen minutes early, Octavia closed her eyes as she exhaled with a _whoosh_ , her fist raised and hovering near the thick wooden door. Honestly, why she was so nervous completely baffled her. It may be due to the fact that she had no idea whatsoever as to why he had requested this meeting. Or perhaps it was because of her father's howler, which declared that she would have no say in her contracts in the slightest. Whatever it was, the nerves prickled horridly all over her body; even her toes and fingertips tingled. It was not a pleasant sensation, in Octavia's opinion.

Her fist rapped on the door feebly but he seemed to have heard her all the same.

"Come in," Professor Diggory's voice resounded through the ancient door.

Octavia bit her lip as she pushed open the door and slipped into the dimly lit office of her Professor, spotting him seated at his desk, apparently grading papers. He placed his brown quill on the desk, motioning her towards him with a wave of his hand.

The door swung shut behind her, closing with a _click_ as she approached the desk, unsure whether to sit on one of the armchairs or remain standing. So she stopped in front of the desk, her hands wringing together behind her back as she stared patiently at the handsome man.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"I …" Professor Diggory began, his brow furrowing as he rose from the chair. "I just wanted to see how you were holding up following the … howler you received this morning."

Instantly Octavia's cheeks tinged with a light shade of pink, resuming the biting of her bottom lip as she shrugged lamely.

"From what your father said in the howler," Diggory continued, stepping around the desk to approach her, "I believe that it is safe to assume that my offer will not be accepted. Regardless, I still care about you, and want you to know that you can confide in me, Octavia."

Her breath hitched as he stopped in front of her, his hand cupping her cheek and tilting her head upwards, their eyes meeting.

"My door is always open to you, should you require it." Cedric said, his eyes glistening with pity.

A soft smile graced her blushing face as she gazed up at him, her stomach flipping as his words caused a tingle through her body.

"Thanks," Octavia smiled, his thumb discreetly brushing over her cheek. "That means a lot to me."

And it did. For she had harboured a twinge of concern following her howler that morning. If Cedric knew that the contract negotiations were no longer possible, she was almost certain that he would no longer show any interest in her- platonic or otherwise.

But her emotions were not platonic, like his seemed to be. In fact, her infatuation appeared to only grow and strengthen at his kind offer.

And suddenly, she felt a near-crippling wave of disappointment wash over her, as though she only just realised that they would not be wed. That her potential husband would not treat her with such respect and kindness. The realisation was a sad one indeed.

Renewed determination and injustice soared within her at the realisation. Why should she suffer and be miserable for the rest of her life, in the name of wealth and status? Just because her father demanded so. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

"It's not over yet," Octavia whispered, her tone filled with vigour and resolve.

Professor Diggory frowned, tilting his head as he watched her hazel eyes alight with something that was foreign to the girl before him. She had never looked so brilliant.

"I do not follow," Diggory said, his hand still cupping her cheek as though he had forgotten the improperness of the touch.

"My father is angry," Octavia smiled, the gesture hardly sweet, but devious. "He will calm down, and when he does he'll listen to me again. There's still time."

Cedric couldn't help but feel relief at her tone of conviction, allowing himself to take comfort in her words. For he hoped that she was correct in her statement. He hoped that her father would reconsider his offer on her contract. Cedric wanted very much to unite with her; she would be the perfect wife.

However, he feared the disappointment that would come if she were unsuccessful in her quest.

Cedric offered her a supportive smile as he removed his hand from her cheek, dropping it to his side. She surprised him, however, as she stepped toward him, her fingers grazing ever-so-slightly against his hand, silently beseeching him to resume his touch.

He didn't know that she craved the tenderness of his hand touching her; the affection in his gentle treatment of her. The sweetness that was so alien to her since she had arrived at Hogwarts.

Cedric allowed her fingers to grip onto his hand lightly, raising it up and guiding it back to her cheek, their eyes locked the entire time. Neither spoke, both of them existing in complete silence as she pressed his hand against her cheek, Cedric cupping it gently, his thumb brushing over the skin.

"Kiss me," Octavia whispered, her boldness catching him off guard momentarily.

Despite his brief flicker of surprise, Cedric moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, gripping firmly as he crashed his lips against hers. A light sigh escaped her lips as his tongue entered her mouth, flicking over hers as his other arm snaked around her waist and held her body against his.

Octavia tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, unsure of what to actually do with her hands. She knew what she wanted to do with them; Octavia wanted to explore his body with her hands, feeling every curve and muscle there was to feel. Instead, she gripped loosely onto his shoulders as he groaned into her mouth, his tongue massaging hers. His ministrations weren't exactly gentle, like they were the first time they had kissed; instead, they kissed passionately, their tongues greedily exploring every crease and crevice of each other's mouths.

Tingles of desire prickled delightfully at every nerve ending in her body, even her fingers alight with lust. Her core began to pool with need, tightening in arousal as she felt something hard pressed against her pelvis. Her knees almost buckled at the realisation of what was pressed against her, her lust-filled mind swarming with images of what it would look like. What it would feel like.

She could feel her panties dampening at her licentious thought process, her arousal only increased as he pulled her closer against him, the bulge accidently grinding against her pelvis. Both Professor and student emitted a moan at the accidental contact, Cedric's out of pleasure, Octavia's out of excitement and wonder. There was no denying just how excited she was in that moment, nor just how far she would let him take it.

Octavia was not and had never been much of a prude when it came to sex. Her curiosity about the act had always bordered on unhealthy, in fact. She had just never participated in the act before.

Despite her evident attractiveness and beauty, Octavia had not been approached or courted in a way that would lead to sexual intercourse outside of wedlock. This was partly due to her status in the Wizarding World as the Zabini heiress, as well as Draco's stamping of her to be somewhat of a pariah. Due to both of these contributing factors, Octavia had never found herself in a situation that could potentially lead to engaging in sexual acts with another. Something she was definitely not against.

Particularly with her dreamy Professor.

If truth be told, the fact that he was her Professor only seemed to increase her arousal and excitement.

A whimper of protest came from her swollen lips as he ended the kiss. He rested his forehead on hers as he closed his eyes and attempted to regain control of his breathing, Octavia pouting in discontentment.

"I can't control myself around you," Cedric whispered, the confliction evident in his strained tone. "We shouldn't be doing this, and I know that. But I just can't stop myself."

"Then don't stop," Octavia smirked, leaning up on her tippy-toes to catch his lips with hers.

Unable to resist the inappropriate invitation, Cedric moved his hands to her waist, gripping firmly and pushing her against the desk. The small of her back was almost aching already at the pain of the desk pushing into her, but she quickly forgot her pain as his tongue gained passage to her mouth.

Their kiss was entirely different to the two prior.

Their tongues danced together passionately, almost sensually as his muscular form pressed against hers, one hand leaving her waist and sliding down over her skirt to her smooth thigh. A delightful sigh came from Octavia, her head almost falling back as he removed his tongue from her mouth and grazed his teeth over her plump bottom lip instead.

Cedric slowly slid his hand up her milky white thigh, the pads of his fingertips brushing against the smooth skin. His lips connected with hers once again, attacking her mouth with vigour as his hand moved further up her thigh to her bum without protest. He kept his hand on the perk mound for a moment, waiting for any signs of her reluctance as he kissed her desperately. When he received no signs of resistance from her whatsoever, he further tested the boundaries by giving her ample bottom a light squeeze.

Octavia breathed a low moan into his mouth as their tongues battled, his hand now brushing up and down her plump bottom firmly. She squealed as he suddenly moved his hands away and grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up onto the desk without ceasing their kiss.

Automatically, her legs spread, allowing him space to press himself against her, his arm wrapped around her waist and holding her to him. His kiss turned harsh, almost urgent, as he ground himself purposely against her core, Octavia's head lolling back at the friction. He repeated the action, his lips brushing against her jaw as jolts of fire and electricity shot through them at the contact.

Octavia was no stranger to pleasure in her lady parts; in fact, she would consider herself somewhat of an expert in achieving said pleasure by herself. In saying that, however, Octavia's self-induced pleasure had nothing on the sensations that attacked her body in that moment. The sensations delivered by the touches of another person. A man.

Her Professor.

Her once-dry knickers were now completely soaked with the essence of her excitement, dampening the strained fabric of his trousers as he ground himself against her repeatedly. Their breaths turned harsh, sounding more like panting as his hips gyrated, his trapped erection teasing her aching core in the most painfully delightful way.

Cedric buried his face in the nook of her neck, his lips barely touching her alight skin as he gripped onto her waist tightly and continued to grind against her. Octavia's head remained lolled back slightly, her back arched, chest pressed firmly against his muscular body as her legs locked around him. The mere action of her limbs wrapping around his waist seemed to be all the encouragement that he needed.

A guttural moan escaped her parted plump lips, a gravely groan ripping through Cedric as he quickened the pace, his trapped cock rubbing rapidly against her aching core. Each grind of the twitching bulge hit her throbbing clit, Octavia tilting her hips slightly, her breasts pushed against his chest as her legs began to quake violently.

Octavia emitted a string of mewing sounds, Cedric's low groans and desperate moans echoing through his office, her legs twitching and stretching out as fire roared up within her tense core, feeling as though she was momentarily dangling off a cliff. And then she fell.

Octavia cried out, her eyes shut tight in ecstasy as her body was plunged into intense pleasure, Cedric's shout and tensing indicating that he joined her in the abyss. She whimpered as he ground himself against her a few more times, his body tensing then trembling occasionally, Octavia feeling the gush of elixir escape her cunt.

The pleasure within them slowly dissipated, but they didn't move. Cedric's face remained nuzzled against her neck, his breaths brushing against the skin as his arms around her hips held her to him. Her lips remained parted as her breathing began to steady, her head falling back slightly as her hands rested on the table, supporting her weight.

A brisk knock sounded out from the thick wooden door of the office, both Professor and student tensing instantly. It was as if time froze, both of them too afraid to breathe in that moment, their bodies still entangled.

"Professor Diggory," a man's voice sounded out accompanied by another brisk knock.

As though someone had doused them both with a cauldron of freezing cold water, Cedric and Octavia sprang into action, both of them pushing away from the desk and righting their dishevelled appearances. Discreetly, Octavia straightened her soaked underwear as Cedric waved his wand and removed the wet patch from his trousers; a mixture of both of their cum.

Cedric backed away, moving toward the other side of the desk as he smoothed out his appearance, Octavia hurriedly scurrying over to the armchair facing the desk and seating herself properly.

"Come in," Cedric announced, standing behind the desk, a quill in his hand and parchment in the other. As though they had just been going over her essay or something.

The door creaked open to reveal her fellow Slytherin, Theodore Nott. The snake strode into the office confidently, a slight swagger in the way he moved. His eyes were trained on the patient-looking Professor, Theo not noticing Octavia's presence in the slightest.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Nott?" Cedric asked, eyeing his student expectantly as he tossed the parchment onto the desk.

"I have a few questions about the assignment," Theodore answered, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. "Do you have time to go over it?"

Cedric's gaze flicked to Octavia before back to Theo, the Professor evidently unsure on how to manoeuvre the situation. So Octavia decided to help him out.

"It's alright, Professor," Octavia said, rising from the armchair.

Theo flinched at the sound of her voice, pretending to be momentarily surprised at the additional occupant in the room. And by his quirked brow the moment his eyes rested on her, she knew he was there on another's demand.

"Thanks for the help," Octavia smiled at the stoic Professor.

Approaching the desk, Octavia up the blank piece of parchment that he had held in his hand a mere moment ago. She quickly folded the parchment before Theo could notice that it was blank, and stuffed it into the pocket of her black cardigan.

"I'll try harder next time," Octavia promised, knowing that Theo would come to the conclusion that she was only discussing her terrible essays with the Professor.

A believable lie, she knew.

"Very good, Miss Zabini." Cedric responded, his tone professional and detached. "I suggest you spend time studying the notes and employing my advice in the next assignment."

"I will," Octavia nodded, her hands clasped behind her back. "Thanks Professor."

Cedric bowed his head once, accepting her thanks and motioning her to take her leave in the one gesture. Theo offered her a sympathetic smile as she turned and walked by him toward the exit.

Was the smile offered because he was actually fond of her when Draco wasn't around and felt pity for her? Or was it because her tiny manipulations had worked and he believed her to be failing an assignment, therefore partaking in a meeting with her Professor?

Either way, she was elated.

Feeling as though she was dancing on clouds with unicorns, Octavia couldn't help but grin widely as she departed the office, a bounce in her step that expressed the delight inside of her.

Yes. Octavia was a very happy girl indeed.

* * *

Resisting the powerful urge within him to exercise tenderness, Draco buried his hand in her tight blonde curls, yanking her head back roughly as her back arched spectacularly. He tuned out her grating moans and whimpers, focusing his attention on the sensations coursing through his body as her butt wiggled deliciously. He pumped himself in and out of her impossibly tight heaven, panting heavily as the poly-juiced body writhed on the bed, his heated gaze lingering on her back dimples.

The grip on her hair tightened, his fingers gripping the knot of the blindfold as he pounded into her relentlessly. Lavender issued a string of moans and grunts with the occasional whimper of his surname, but he blocked out the sounds as much as possible, pretending that it was really her he was fucking. That it was really Octavia.

For whatever reason, he just couldn't get her out of his fucking system. He had lost count of how many times he had employed poly-juice potion with Lavender, transforming her body into Octavia's with neither girl's knowledge. Lavender was merely under the impression that the potion he provided her with almost daily transformed her womanhood into virginity. He allowed her to think that; he allowed her to assume that he merely had a preference for virgins. He didn't mind either way, really.

But when it came to her – to Octavia – he relished in the sensations of taking her faux virginity. Of being her first.

Initially, Draco had thought that he would use the poly-juice potion only once or twice. It quickly got out of hand, though. And he was powerless to stop it. He couldn't.

And he was beginning to realise why.

Those feelings he buried deep down inside of him, all those years ago, refused to be ignored any longer. They surged up inside of him when he stared coldly into her frightened hazel orbs. He felt the need to comfort and protect her, accompanied by the urge to hate and punish her.

Of course, Draco knew that it was silly to blame her for how he felt. It really wasn't her fault. But he blamed her all the same. For if he didn't, he would no longer have the hatred to distract him.

And he would feel what he had been resisting for all these years. What he had felt since he was a young boy, completely smitten by the silly beauty he so despised.

The silly beauty he so … No! He couldn't think like that. It would open a jar of linchworms. It would cause the feelings he harboured to ignite within him with renewed strength.

Forcing himself to focus on his hatred for the girl, Draco's free hand came crashing down on her perk little ass as he pummelled her ruthlessly. He had to focus on the hatred. There was no other choice.

It was all he had.


	16. Chapter 16

"This is stupid," Octavia scowled, eyeing the crystal ball with disdain. "It's broken."

"You just have to clear your mind," Luna sang, sitting across from her at the small circular table in the mystical classroom. "The ball is unclear if your mind is."

Groaning in frustration, Octavia closed her eyes as she attempted to clear her mind like Luna had suggested. But she was unsuccessful. Thoughts and images of Cedric grinding against her swarmed her mind, making her attempt at concentration just a little difficult. Or downright impossible.

Their assignment in Divination that day was to accurately predict their partner's future by use of the crystal ball. In Octavia's case, the crystal ball had never really worked for her before. Her preferred avenue of fortune-telling was definitely the tarot cards. She felt as though she somehow connected with the cards and the story they told.

Crystal balls on the other hand were a little more difficult for her. They just did not respond to her, nor her to them. Always seeing fog and nothing else.

Opening her eyes slowly, despite her chaotic mind, Octavia focused her intense gaze on the ball as she attempted to think only of her partner, Luna. Again, only fog was visible to her eyes, the ball swarming with cloudiness.

Alas, she was not concerned about failing this particular assignment. She knew exactly how to appease and impress the Professor of the subject. It was simple, really. All she had to do was predict death and a gloomy future. Professor Trelawney seemed to have a particular fondness of grim futures.

The Seer herself approached the girls at the table, her oversized, eager eyes flicking between the two as they stared into the crystal ball.

"What do you see?" Professor Trelawney asked, her atrocious outfit causing Octavia to grimace.

"I see …" Octavia sang, returning her intense stare to the magical device before her. "I see … misery and … death. So much death … and … a black dog … the Grim, I think."

The Seer gasped, placing her hand on her heart dramatically as she leaned down and peered into the ball. Octavia smiled smugly as Trelawney hummed, gracing Luna with a sympathetic glance before straightening herself.

"Poor girl," Professor Trelawney sighed, patting Luna on the shoulder before fleeting off to assess the students at the table beside them.

"I'm definitely a Seer," Octavia beamed at Luna as the latter giggled. "What do you see?"

Luna smiled fondly at her friend before concentrating her gaze on the crystal ball, her brow furrowing as she focused and cleared her mind. Octavia fidgeted, waiting rather impatiently as Luna gazed into the ball for what seemed like a painful eternity.

"Oh come on!" Octavia whined. "What do you see?"

Luna frowned, tilting her head as she observed the shadowy images in the ball, darkness surrounding everything.

"I see you," Luna whispered, her concentrative gaze not wavering from the ball. "On a beach … you are happy."

Octavia smiled, peering into the ball as if she would see what her friend did. Alas, she merely continued to see clouds and thick fog.

"Muggles are around you," Luna continued. "And … Pansy Parkinson."

"Pansy?" Octavia frowned, desperate to see what Luna did.

It was a strange observation that Luna had made, considering the fact that Octavia and Pansy would hardly be considered friends anymore. They were cordial with one another these days, and sometimes fell back into their old friendship at pureblood society events. But other than that, Octavia could hardly see herself frolicking around a beach with the fellow pureblood.

"There are paths," Luna continued, evidently not hearing Octavia. "So many paths, but you choose only one. It doesn't matter though … they all lead to him."

"Him?" Octavia perked up, her eyes alight with excitement. "Cedric?"

"No," Luna shook her head, her sad gaze meeting her friend's sparkly hazel eyes. "Not Cedric."

"Who?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Octavia blinked at her friend stupidly before erupting into a fit of laughter, almost doubling over in her chair. Luna frowned as she watched her friend, Octavia evidently assuming that she was only teasing her. How wrong she was. Instead of correcting her friend's assumption, Luna forced a sweet smile onto her features, and allowed Octavia to continue in her misunderstanding. She did not want to upset her friend.

And if Octavia knew what Luna had seen, she would be very upset indeed.

Some things were better left unsaid.

* * *

Draco reclined against the wall, inspecting his manicured nails tediously as the students buzzed around him. If any class were his favourite, it would be this one- Defence Against the Dark Arts. But he wasn't exactly excited at today's lesson, if truth be told.

So he remained at the back of the class, opting not to join his fellow students in lining up in the centre of the room. He was not interested in encountering the boggart that bounced around in the closed cupboard at the front of the classroom, Professor Slughorn standing beside it and delegating instructions to the eager students.

Theo and Blaise stood with him at the back of the class, both evidently joining him in his lack of participation in the lesson. Draco did not know whether they did this out of loyalty or for the same reasons he did; fear.

Draco Malfoy did not fear much, if anything at all. The feeling was alien to him. But he recognised it the very moment Professor Slughorn announced the nature of the lesson that was taking place that day. He wasn't necessarily afraid of the boggart, but more of what it would transform into.

He had his suspicions that Blaise harboured similar concerns for his own interaction with the boggart, and that was the very reason that Blaise stood with him, refusing to partake in the lesson. Theo, on the other hand, was likely to be following their actions just for the sake of loyalty.

Draco wasn't entirely sure of what the boggart would change into if he were to encounter it. But he had an inkling of what – or who – it would revolve around. An inkling that he was not prepared to put to the test.

Despite their rejection of the lesson, the Slytherin trio watched as student after student approached the mysterious creature and their worst fears transformed before their very eyes. It was valuable knowledge to possess, in their opinions, so they watched intently, assessing the fears of each classmate.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Slughorn grinned, clapping his hands together as the girl stepped forward.

While the trio watched all students face off with the creature, Draco noticed that Blaise tensed slightly as the banshee mudblood took her turn in approaching the creature.

The boggart curled up into itself, somewhat resembling a whirling Quaffle as it spun mid-air before finally settling into the appearance of Professor McGonagall. The stern woman did not speak as her wrinkled lips pursed, eyeing a wide-eyed Hermione with distaste. The older woman extended her hand, a crisp piece of parchment clasped in her fingers, the word 'TROLL' printed across it in thick red letters.

Blaise scoffed, evidently finding Hermione's fear of failing to be rather ludicrous. There was so much more to fear in the world, but of course, Hermione Granger feared failing above all else.

"Riddikulus!" Hermione yelled, flicking her wand at the boggart.

Some murmurs of approval sang through the classroom, joined by raucous laughter and shivers of disgust as the parchment turned into a photograph of the Professor snogging Snape. Blaise grimaced at the sight, but found her counter-spell to be rather surprising. Who would have thought that her perfect little mind could come up with such disgusting things? He was impressed.

Draco pushed himself from the wall, turning and staring out of the window at the Black Lake that bordered the west side of the castle. His cold grey eyes remained impassive as the Giant Squid flopped about on the surface of the rippling water, Theo following his gaze as he had also become bored with the lesson.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Theo asked, his eyes staring out of the dusty window.

Draco didn't respond, and kept his gaze on the slimy squid in the distance.

Theodore sighed, knowing the reason for his friend's pensive silence, despite Draco's lack of response. He knew that he was still mulling over Octavia's meeting with Professor Diggory the previous week. Of course Theo had constantly assured his comrade that the meeting was perfectly innocent, but he sensed that Draco knew he was lying.

While Theo had not caught the pair indulging in any licentious acts when he entered the office, the scent of arousal was thick in the air. He was very well aware that they had been up to no good prior to his entry to the office. Of course he wasn't mad enough to tell Draco that. It would only end badly for Octavia as well as his friend.

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" Slughorn applauded jovially, his fat face alight with pride. "That's all for today!"

A groan of annoyance rippled through the students at the announcement, half of them yet to encounter the boggart.

"Now, now!" Slughorn chuckled, his belly wobbling. "We will continue the lesson next week! Now off you go!"

The class began to dissipate reluctantly, apparently not a single one of them appeased by the mention of the boggart being in the next lesson. Everyone was rather keen to tackle the creature that day, except for the Slytherin Trio of course.

"Before I forget," Slughorn announced, the crowd of students loitering by the door. "The first dinner for the Slug Club will be the weekend before the Halloween Ball. Those of you who are invited should expect a letter shortly. Be sure to RSVP!"

Draco barely managed to prevent his eyes from rolling at the announcement, grabbing his textbooks and barging through the mass of students with Theo and Blaise. He knew that he would among the elite members, due to his status in the Wizarding World, as well as his impeccable grades. But in reality, he just couldn't care less about the stupid club.

Unless _she_ was in it, of course.

* * *

Octavia giggled, her body squirming against his as he nibbled her earlobe gently. Cedric's arms were wrapped loosely around her waist as they took refuge in the shadows of an alcove on the third floor. It was a quiet corridor, but that did not reduce Octavia's thrill of potentially getting caught. The threat was exhilarating, alighting her body with delicious anxieties.

It wasn't like they had actually planned on canoodling in the alcove. They had merely encountered each other in a nearby corridor by happy accident.

Perhaps she should feel ashamed and embarrassed at her bold gesture of grabbing his robes and hauling him through the maze of corridors to where they stood now. But she wasn't ashamed. How could she be when she was so entirely enthralled by the feel of his teeth nipping at her skin so delectably?

Brisk footsteps echoed through the corridor, freezing Cedric and Octavia instantly. Suddenly the thrill of being caught wasn't so pleasant.

Cedric whipped out his wand and tapped it once atop Octavia's curls, the wizard-born feeling as though someone had just cracked an egg on her head. She could practically feel the raw egg trickle through her curls, down her face and over her body. Until she was completely covered in the charm that he had used. The Disillusionment Charm.

At least that what Octavia assumed, considering her body was no longer visible as Cedric twirled his wand above his own head. She watched in complete fascination as Cedric's body slowly blended in with the carvings on the stone wall behind him. It was as though he had become invisible. No. Not invisible.

His robes had changed from black to a light grey, his shirt and trousers now featuring engravings that were not there a moment ago. If she looked hard enough, Octavia almost see the outline of his body. Where the wall ended and his chameleon body began.

Looking down at herself, Octavia noticed that the exact same had happened to her. Definitely the cause of a disillusionment charm. Yet, she was fascinated all the same- magic never failed to captivate her.

They held their breaths as the footsteps drew nearer, Hermione Granger rounding the corner and making her way down the corridor toward them. As expected, Hermione did not see Cedric or O pressed up against the wall, impatiently waiting for her to pass, much to O's delight. Trying to explain her current company to her rule-abiding friend would be a difficult task indeed.

Although O's own misdeeds swiftly evaporated from her mind as she spotted the parchment in Hermione's hand, the muggle-born witch striding by them. The parchment was only visible to Octavia for a moment, but long enough for her to see 'Theme: Fairy-tales' written in shiny black ink.

Score!

Octavia could barely contain her glee at the knowledge of the Halloween Balls' theme. And it seemed as though Hermione had won over her brother on the dispute of the theme. Octavia couldn't be more pleased about Ninny's victory.

The moment Hermione disappeared down another corridor, Cedric waved his wand and removed the charm from both of them. Octavia could hardly claim to be surprised at his grim expression.

"We have to be more careful," Cedric sighed, not meeting Octavia's bright hazel eyes. "We could have been caught."

Octavia nodded in agreement, but couldn't help feel a little dejected. The spontaneity of their make-out session was half of the fun. It seemed that it would now only occur on schedule, unfortunately.

Her mood picked up, however, as he planted a gentle kiss atop her wild curls before he strode away, leaving Octavia to swoon with infatuation.

Perhaps her final year at Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

"Sugar Quills," Hermione announced, her back straight and chin raised.

The stone gargoyle bowed before creaking and sliding to the left, revealing a long and windy staircase. Hermione wasted not a moment before stepping onto the limestone stairs, the staircase rotating and carrying her upwards to the Headmaster's office.

Strangely, however, when Hermione reached the top of the rotating staircase, the door to the Headmaster's office was ajar. Rapping her fist against the solid door, Hermione waited for a response to come. There was none.

Frowning, she peeked through the crack, pushing the door open further as her brown eyes surveyed the colourful circular room. There was no sign of the Headmaster anywhere in the room; only the Phoenix occupied the space, perched importantly atop its stand. The Phoenix's amber eyes fixed on Hermione the moment she slipped through the doorway, tentatively approaching the Headmaster's vacant desk.

The creature watched her every move – evidently on guard – as she offered it a gentle smile, placing parchment on the desk. The proposal.

Hermione felt no guilt whatsoever about going behind Blaise's back and completing the Ball proposal to her preference. In her mind, the pathetic excuse for a Head Boy revoked the right to have input with the planning the moment he abandoned their meeting at Hogsmeade in favour of Quidditch practice. Furthermore, his aggressive and entirely inappropriate behaviour that very evening had destroyed all chances of Hermione working with him on the proposal.

So Hermione wasn't disappointed at the Headmaster's vacancy from his office that evening. For if anyone could tell with a single glance that Hermione had dismissed her partner in planning, it was Dumbledore.

Sending another soft smile to the elegant bird atop the perch, Hermione turned and strode out of the office, leaving the proposal on the desk.

It was done now. The theme was decided and submitted. The music, the food, the costumes- it would all be a symbolic blend of cultures between the two worlds.

And there was nothing Blaise Zabini could do about it.

* * *

The mild breeze that rustled her wild curls, once warm, now possessed an icy touch. Octavia didn't mind that so much, but she dreaded what it meant. The seasons were changing, and summer was no longer with them. Now came autumn, and it saddened Octavia somewhat.

For the tree she sat beneath, shielded from the strong sunrays by its lush and flowery branches, would begin to wither. Autumn would come and take away the thriving beauty of the Whomping Willow and turn its branches brittle, and kill the beautiful flowers that decorated it so spectacularly. The leaves would turn crisp and fall from the tree, swaying in the wind before settling on the damp grass beneath it.

Octavia always felt some sympathy for the tree when autumn came. It was silly, she knew that. But she always felt as though it was dying, and people went about their business around it, never caring. Never noticing. But Octavia noticed.

The lush grass she now sat on cross-legged would soon be covered by the dead leaves of her favourite tree, and it would sadden her. Why? She did not know.

Leaning back against the creaking trunk of the swaying tree, Octavia smiled fondly as she felt the hum of life vibrate against her back. It was probably her favourite thing about the Whomping Willow; that the tree hummed with life. Always.

Hazel orbs fixed on the open book in her lap, searching for the line that she last read to resume her reading. The story was long and written so elegantly that she had trouble understanding the words at times. But she managed to grasp the gist all the same.

In the story, told by the Brothers Grimm, Cinderella had a tree just like Octavia.

Cinderella's tree grew from the girl's tears, thriving on her misery. But not maliciously, no. The tree grew strong from Cinderella's shed tears, only to provide her with sanctuary and comfort. Much like the Whomping Willow did with Octavia.

It was in that moment that she decided; Octavia would go to the Halloween Ball as Cinderella.

Now if only she could convince Luna to go as a tree.


	17. Chapter 17

The Pureblood Squib Chapter 17

* * *

Blaise stormed through corridors of Hogwarts, his jaw clenched and his eyes ablaze with fury. Mere moments ago he had watched as Filch hung up the posters for the Halloween Ball, initially thinking it strange that Granger had gone ahead and designed the artworks. He quickly realised she had done a lot more than that.

As he billowed through the torch-lit hallways, he encountered more and more of the blasted posters. That fucking theme mocking him each and every time. Swaying images of muggle and wizarding fairy-tale characters smiling and waving at him as he passed. It was only serving to increase his anger with the mudblood.

Blaise burst through the doors of the library, his darkened eyes swiftly scanning the vast space for the treacherous Head Girl. After seeing no sign of the mop of brown curls, he barged by a vexed Madam Pince, students quickly fleeing his path as he moved through the mass of tables.

It took Blaise little more than fifteen minutes to locate the Granger girl, buried deep within the Ancient Runes section of the library. He had assumed that she would be in the far corner of the shelves, given that they had an assignment due for that very class at the end of the week.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Granger?" Blaise seethed, slamming his hands on the small desk she sat at.

The Head Girl merely sighed, placing her quill atop her parchment before gazing up at him patiently.

"As you can see, I am working on an essay," Granger replied coolly, her stare not faltering in the slightest at his palpable fury. "Or at least, I _was_ before you rudely interrupted me."

"Ignorance does not suit you, Granger," Blaise spat, his upper lip curling as she reclined casually in the wooden chair. "At what juncture did you make the foolish mistake of thinking you could complete the proposal without me?"

"Around the time you blasted me into a wall," Hermione mused, tapping her finger against her chin as she feigned thought. "Perhaps before that though, when you decided to choose Quidditch over your Head Boy duties. I cannot be sure."

"How dare you –" Blaise growled before she cut him off.

"Me?" Hermione laughed. "Listen, Zabini. You revoked the right of input last weekend. And don't pretend that this about me finishing the proposal without you. We both know it's about the allocated theme. Why is it such an issue to incorporate muggle cultures into the Ball?"

"You have no idea what you have started," Blaise hissed, leaning further over the desk as she remained perfectly calm. "For the 'Brightest Witch of Your Age', your intellect really is quite disappointing."

"Your petty insults have no effect on me, Zabini." Hermione smiled falsely. "For you are completely and totally insignificant to me. You are irrelevant, as are your insults."

Blaise pushed himself from the table and stormed toward her. His hand grasped onto her arm tightly, hauling her from the chair before shoving her against the bookshelf. But this time she was prepared.

Blaise stood so close to her that his ragged breathes brushed against her face like they had the weekend before. But unlike the previous Saturday, Hermione's wand was extended, the searing tip pressed firmly against the dip of his collarbones. Dark eyes penetrated shimmering brown, her defiance evident in her unwavering stare alone.

"Why don't you forget about the proposal," Hermione snarled, the tip of her wand burning an unfaltering Blaise's skin, "and go back to what you're good at."

"And what would that be, Granger?" Blaise spat, pushing against the wand as he stared down at her.

"Spending daddy's money, for one," Hermione smirked. "Followed by fucking your way through the female population at Hogwarts."

Blaise's tightly set lips twisted into a cruel smirk as he stared down at her defiant eyes.

"You mention it so frequently, that I'm beginning to think you are jealous," Blaise drawled coolly, his cruel smirk plastered onto his handsome face. "I have told you before, Granger. Just say the word, and I will assist you in removing that stick up your arse. If you're good, I might just replace it with something a little more pleasant."

Hermione laughed loudly, the false sound ringing in the air. "You think I would ever be interested in allowing something as repulsive as you to touch me? You're barking mad, Zabini. I would have Filch's children before I let your slimy hands touch my body."

"Is that why your heart is beating so quickly?" Blaise grinned, his dark gaze dragging down her face and neck slowly, settling on her chest.

He couldn't exactly see her chest thumping or moving from heartbeat, but he felt it against his own chest as he moved closer to her. He could feel it.

"It either beats rapidly out of lust," Blaise whispered, his pink lips nearing hers as she pressed herself further into the wall, "or fear. Which is it, Granger?"

"Option three," Hermione retorted. " _Disgust_."

Hermione's eyes widened, momentarily frozen in place as his lips crashed down on hers, his fingers gripping her jaw tightly as he kissed her harshly. Too shocked to respond or resist, Hermione just stared with wide eyes at his closed eyelids, his tongue pushing its way into her dry mouth.

Where the fuck did all of her saliva go? Her mouth wasn't dry before he approached her in the library. Was that normal?

A crease formed in her forehead, her lips stinging from the sheer pressure of his harsh kiss, his tongue slithering over hers, tasting every little bud on her tongue. It was a strange sensation he was creating within her.

Having never kissed anyone before, Hermione was entirely at a loss for words or actions. Wasn't it supposed to be enjoyable? To be sweet and tender? To be _nice_?

This kiss wasn't any of those things. This kiss was harsh and filled with anger, radiating tension and hatred. It was a thousand kisses rolled into one, and the sensation was unbearable. It was awful. She simply hated it.

And then she realised.

It wasn't the kiss she hated.

It was him. It was Blaise and his forceful stealing of her first kiss. The kiss she was supposed to give to someone she loved; someone she cared about. Or at least, someone she _liked_!

Not him. Not Blaise Zabini.

But she could not deny that small flicker of desire within her. The flame that never disappeared. The small, yet resilient flame that was reserved for the snake himself.

Ignoring the flame, like she did on a daily basis, Hermione was overcome by the hatred she harboured for the man.

Squeezing her eyelids shut tight, Hermione focused all of her concentration on issuing a non-verbal spell with the wand that pressed against his marked skin. She had only ever performed non-verbal magic when she was younger and couldn't channel it properly.

But the hateful emotions that swarmed inside of her added to the intensity of magic surging through her body, channelling through her arm to her wand.

A gasp escaped her swollen lips as Blaise was sent flying from her body and collided with the opposite bookshelf, landing on his feet in the crouching position. Slowly, he rose to a standing position, appearing taller than he had ever had before. But she didn't allow herself to falter.

Hermione straightened her wand-arm, her chin raised as she stared at him with fury.

"You are by far the vilest creature I have ever had the displeasure of encountering," Hermione spat, the rage swarming in her heated brown eyes. "If you dare touch me again, Zabini, I swear to Merlin that it will be the last thing you ever do."

Blaise's upper lip curled as he regarded her coolly before turning and storming away, leaving Hermione in the nook of the library alone.

The moment he vanished out of sight, Hermione dropped her arm to her side as the realisation of what had just transpired washed over her.

This definitely was not good.

* * *

A string of unladylike grunts and curses escaped Octavia's lips as she squirmed beneath her grand bed, using her toes to push her further under the solid piece of furniture. How in the world her other shoe had ended up under the bed was simply beyond her.

"What the fuck?" Octavia murmured as she snatched her shoe, a pair of black panties caught on the heel.

She had been looking for those knickers! So weird.

Shrugging slightly, Octavia dismissed the mystery as she attempted to shimmy back out from underneath her bed. Her already wild curls were dishevelled even further from her efforts, her school skirt riding up over her hips.

Sighing in relief, Octavia rolled out from the edge of the bed before jumping to her feet ungracefully, a triumphant glint in her eyes as she tossed her shoe onto the bed. Now she only had to find her black formal dress. The dress was not exactly a favourite of hers, for her mother had purchased it over the summer in Paris. But it was nice enough.

The strapless dress featured a straight neckline, concealing an inappropriate amount of cleavage, and the hem brushed against her lower thigh. Her favourite part of the dress, however, had to be the lace design, or the flare skirt. The flare skirt definitely accentuated her slim waistline. Yet, it was appropriate for the event.

The event being a formal dinner for the Slug Club.

Octavia was not exactly surprised to have received an invitation to the elite club, due to her blood-status. While she was a wizard-born, Octavia was still a pureblood Zabini heiress. A Zabini. Therefore, she was a wizard-born muggle form a famous and respected family, wealthy and completing her education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Many expected her to fail in her studies, assuming that her lack of magical abilities somehow defined her. But she proved them wrong.

While her grades were less than impressive in some areas, her participation in extra-curricular activities earned her further credit and increased her overall average. Her father was undoubtedly pleased by her increased grades that year, causing Octavia to suspect that it was the primary reason he allowed her to continue her studies at the school.

There was definitely room for improvement with her scores, but she was satisfied with what she had achieved so far.

Octavia had earned 'Outstandings' in Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Herbology, Muggle Studies and Potions sat at an 'Exceeds Expectations'. There was an undeniable amount of credit for her Potions grade to be allocated to her participation in the Potions Club. From the moment she joined the club, her Potions grade had been increased from an Acceptable to an EE, yet she still had no idea how she managed to perform so well in the club. If she didn't know any better, she would suspect Draco had fabricated her results.

At present, Octavia was only failing Ancient Runes. But it was fixable, as her score was only a 'Poor'. If she studied harder for that class, it wouldn't be long before she saw the grade increase to an 'Acceptable'. Where it would join her 'Acceptables' in History of Magic and Astronomy.

Regardless, her average sat at a low 'Exceeds Expectations', a sure improvement from her previous years of study where she would barely manage an overall 'Acceptable'.

So there was no doubt in her mind that Slughorn showed interest in her initiation to his elite club due to her impressive grades, despite her wizard-born nature.

Octavia felt a brilliant surge of pride at the thought of her grades and improved school performance. Everybody had doubted her from the very start of schooling, but she proved them wrong. She showed that you don't need magic to succeed at Hogwarts. And best of all, she made her father proud.

The icing on the cauldron cake.

* * *

Octavia's black strappy heels shuffled against the stone floor as she clasped her hands on her lap, her hazel eyes fixed on the empty plate before her. She sat between Hermione and some Gryffindor guy at the large circular table, attempting to ignore the intense stare she currently subject to from Draco. She felt incredibly foolish for not realising that he would also receive an invitation to the Slug Club dinner. Alas, she was far too submerged in her excitement for the dinner that she didn't spare the matter any thought. If he had, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have declined the invitation.

Now it was too late.

Octavia was already seated at the large table, all invited students sitting around her as they watched Slughorn rise from his chair and clear his throat.

"Welcome, welcome!" Slughorn began, his oversized belly resting on the table as he glanced at each student. "What a marvellous set of students I see before me. I am so pleased to acquaint myself with each and every one of you, and hope that, in future, we may become friends. I have hosted these parties each year for my promising sixth and seventh year students, and I must be honest- some have disappointed me. But looking around me now, I see only the brightest and best that Hogwarts has to offer, and have no doubt in my mind that we will all become great friends."

Octavia smiled as her plate, and all others, filled with a grand selection of sweets, puddings and cakes. Not much of a dinner, really. But Octavia always did prefer dessert.

"As we indulge ourselves in these sugary treats," Slughorn continued, raising his goblet of sherry, "it would be simply divine if we went around the table and introduced ourselves. Now … let's begin with … Harry, my boy! Let's start with you!"

Harry Potter blushed slightly as Slughorn seated himself.

"Uh …" Harry began, his cheeks a bright shade of crimson. "Well, uh … I'm Harry … and I'm captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

"Yes, yes!" Slughorn interrupted. "Tell us about _yourself_!"

"Oh," Harry nodded, his green eyes alight with humiliation. "Well, I … like Quidditch. And … well, I didn't know I was a wizard until I turned eleven. That was … good. And … Hogwarts is my favourite place in the world."

"Splendid," Slughorn declared, Octavia sniggering at Harry's red face.

She quickly stopped, however, as Hermione elbowed her in the side.

"Now, Ginny Weasley!" Slughorn clapped his hands together. "You're next."

"Hi," Ginny smiled confidently, her eyes flickering around the predominantly bored students. "I'm Ginny Weasley, and I love Quidditch. My preferred position is Seeker, but I'm the Chaser of my house team. And I do a mean bat-bogey hex."

Octavia nodded in agreement, having been witness to the girl's signature hex. No one did it better than Ginny, that was for sure.

All pairs of eyes moved to Hermione as she was evidently next to speak, sitting next to Ginny. Octavia noticed, however, that Blaise was staring at the muggle-born with a mixture of poorly concealed curiosity and anger. Interesting …

"I am Hermione Granger," Hermione began in a formal tone. "I am a muggle-born witch, and take great pleasure in learning. I love to read and acquire knowledge, particularly in regards to the Wizarding World. I do not like Quidditch. One day, I hope to be successful in freeing all house-elves from slavery."

Octavia grimaced at Hermione's speech, finding that she would be simply lost without Pinky, her house-elf. Pinky had been with her since the day she was born, practically! O loved Pinky, and would surely be heart-broken if she was taken away from her.

"Uh … Hi," Octavia mumbled, her cheeks rosy as she took her turn. "I'm Octavia Zabini, and I'm a wizard-born. I … uh … love animals and … um … shopping."

Blaise grinned at her last comment, finding that she more than 'loved' shopping. It was essentially her life. Even at Hogwarts, O always carted around fashion magazines and circled everything she wanted before owling it back to her mother. It was as important to O as breathing!

Draco smirked fleetingly as Octavia bit her lip, averting her eyes back to her plate.

"Come now!" Slughorn chuckled. "Octavia here is the first wizard-born in five decades to complete an education at Hogwarts. A wonderful achievement, and one you are performing well, I believe."

Octavia's rosy cheeks flushed further as she sank back in her chair, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Now, who's next?" Slughorn sang, training his eyes on the handsome Gryffindor boy beside O. "Cormac McLaggen!"

"Hey," Cormac grinned, the gesture considerably charming. "I'm Cormac, and I am the son of Norman McLaggen, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. My grandfather is the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, and my brother is the Keeper for the Chudley Canons. Each summer, my family vacation in the Bahamas in a muggle area, where my father met my mother who is a muggle. We take great pride in being culturally diverse."

Octavia gaped at the half-blood in awe, finding that his mother's blood-status was supremely fascinating to her. Of course, Hermione's parents were muggles, but Cormac's father – a pureblood – married a _muggle_. Simply fascinating. She would have to talk to this Gryffindor boy some more, she decided. For she wanted to know all about his muggle experiences.

Octavia couldn't help but continue to stare at the boy with wonder as the girl next to him introduced herself, O not hearing a single word she was saying. It wasn't until Hermione handed her a goblet filled with strawberry juice that she came back to the present, and pretended to listen to the Hufflepuff girl speak.

Finally, after what seemed like tedious hours that had dragged by, the introductions were drawing to an end. Octavia had tuned out for the majority of the speeches, her mind swarming with thoughts of the muggle world- particularly Barbados. She wasn't exactly sure where that was, but she did know that there were Wizarding populations in the island. Normally when she travelled with her family, accompanied by other pureblood families, they would vacation at Wizarding resorts. It was not often that they would encounter muggles on their trips, let alone interact with them.

A realisation that she just couldn't seem to forget. Now all Octavia wanted to do was speak to a muggle. Suddenly, she recalled Luna's prediction the previous week in Divination. Maybe she and her husband would travel to muggle tourist spots around the world? It seemed to be the case.

"I am Blaise Zabini," her brother drawled, ever the aristocrat. "My interests vary from politics to sports, and I am fluent in six languages. As the heir to the Zabini empire, following my graduation I will partake in a diligent internship of sorts in the family business in preparation for my take-over."

Octavia scowled as Slughorn began to essentially fawn over her prat of a brother, O finding the scene utterly repulsive. Blaise wasn't even that impressive, and he totally lied when he said he could speak six languages. He was only fluent in five, and was currently learning Latin. Such a liar. She was absolutely certain that his comment was a dig at her only knowing two languages; English and Italian.

"Draco Malfoy," the handsome blonde spoke, his tone crisp and bored. "At present, I am in the process of attaining the majority of control of the Malfoy Empire. The day of my graduation from Hogwarts, I will receive full control over the hospitality sector of the family business, and plan to expand the restaurant and hotel chains to the Americas. Currently, I am fluent in seven languages and possess an avid interest in the sport, Quidditch."

Octavia rolled her eyes, finding that Draco's introduction was more of a bragging-sesh than anything. How she could have ever liked him was simply beyond her.

"Now that we are all acquainted, let's begin the festivities!" Slughorn announced, clapping his hands together as two house-elves appeared.

Octavia flicked her hair over her shoulder as the house-elves moved around the table and began to fill wine glasses with honeywine, and tumblers with firewhiskey. She wasn't too surprised that alcohol was being provided at the dinner, having heard rumours of such things happening the previous year at the Slug Club events. Hell, she wasn't even sure if it was against the rules or not. He was a professor, so maybe it was merely considered to be supervised alcohol consumption? Whatever the reason, Hermione was definitely displeased by the alcohol provisions.

Ninny's lips pursed together in disapproval as she pushed her full wine glass away from her, Octavia shrugging before snatching up the glass. Octavia was more than happy to have two glasses of the delicious beverage. And it would certainly help ease her anxieties at being in the company of King-Fuckwit-Draco.

"It's just one glass," Octavia mumbled under the intense stare from her bushy-haired friend. "It's rude not to."

Hermione sighed before picking up a bottle of butterbeer, compromising on the issue. Octavia couldn't help but suspect that Hermione needed the liquid-courage as much as she did. For Blaise's frequent glowers at Ninny did not go unnoticed by either girl.

"So?" Octavia whispered as the students began to converse familiarly around them.

"What?" Hermione frowned, scooting closer to O.

"Why is my brother trying to kill you with his eyes?"

"The same reason Malfoy hasn't taken his eyes off you all night. They hate us."

"Liar," Octavia hissed, narrowing her eyes sternly at her fibbing friend. "What happened?"

Hermione sighed before taking a generous swig of her butterbeer. "He is unhappy about the selected theme of the Halloween Ball."

"Didn't you guys talk about it though? Like, wouldn't he have to agree to it before it was chosen?"

"In theory." Hermione mumbled, speaking into her bottle.

"Oh, you didn't!" Octavia gasped, staring at Ninny with wide eyes. "You went behind his back?"

"It's his own fault." Hermione shrugged, appearing completely unaffected by Octavia's gaping expression.

"Ohhh, he's gonna be mad about that." Octavia sang ominously, shaking her head.

"Let him be angry," Hermione scowled. "It's done, and that's that."

"Oh well," Octavia smiled. "I like the theme, anyway, so whatever."

"Well as long as you're happy," Hermione smiled, Octavia oblivious to the sarcasm in her tone as she hummed in agreeance.

"What are you going to go as?"

"Belle from Beauty and the Beast."

"I dunno who that is," Octavia frowned, not recalling seeing that fairy-tale in the book she borrowed from the library.

"I lend you the story book," Hermione said. "What about you?"

"Cinderella," Octavia beamed, Hermione raising her brows in response.

"You're going as a muggle princess?"

"Yeah," Octavia nodded. "Why not? It'll be fun."

Hermione smiled, genuinely pleased that her pureblood friend was embracing the theme so well. It appeared that the theme may prove to be quite successful with the students at Hogwarts. A probable win for her, and a loss for Blaise. Not that she was keeping count or anything.

Having devoured her first glass of honeywine, Octavia swapped her empty glass for the full one she stole off Ninny. She wasn't too concerned about the slight buzz she was already feeling. She wasn't the only one, it seemed.

Slughorn was already slurring his words as he conversed intently with Harry, the latter appearing thoroughly disinterested, yet attempting to be as polite as possible.

"Hey," Cormac leaned to the side, evidently trying to strike up a conversation with a tipsy Octavia. "So how come your parents sent you to a Wizarding school? I've always wanted to ask that but never really got the chance."

"Oh," Octavia blinked, her glassy eyes meeting his. "Well, they … uh, didn't want me to leave this world, I think. I'm glad they sent me here though."

"It's pretty incredible," Cormac smiled, Octavia almost falling off her seat. The guy had a charming aura about him, that's for sure. "When my dad married my mum, he was shunned straight away from the pureblood society."

"It's a bit like that," Octavia nodded, her expression swiftly turning grim. "Not everyone's as … accepting of me as my family is. People started treating me differently when we found out about my wizard-born status."

"Yeah," Cormac sighed. "A bunch of racist assholes, if my dad's opinion is anything to go by."

Octavia laughed, unaware of the cold grey eyes fixed on her intently.

"I'd say your dad is onto something there," Octavia grinned. "Except my family, of course. They're not like that."

"Not anymore, at least." Cormac laughed, Octavia's smile instantly wiped off her face.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, they weren't always like that were they?" Cormac explained, leaning closer to her. "When they following You-Know-Who."

"My family didn't do that." Octavia frowned, only partially understanding his implications.

Her knowledge of the Wizarding War had definitely increased in her final year at Hogwarts, but there was still so much that confused her. But she knew enough- her parents' friend, who went by many names, was genuinely a horrible guy. He killed people because he didn't like their blood status and some other people supported him. Those who supported him were called 'Death Eaters'. The Dark Lord attempted to kill Harry Potter's parents, but was killed by his own curse that rebounded off of Harry. And that is why Harry was referred to as the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. But that's all she really knew on the subject.

"Pardon me," Cormac frowned, evidently confused. "I must be mistaken."

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, their awkward gaze holding for a moment before O attempted to ease the weird tension. "So … uh, your mum's a muggle? That's interesting."

Cormac forced a polite smile before turning and speaking to the girl on his other side, leaving Octavia to scowl at the back of his head.

What a weirdo.

* * *

Octavia stumbled through the door, trying her damned hardest to appear sober, despite her surroundings swaying horribly around her. Thankfully she wasn't the only one who had drank a little too much at the Slug Club dinner, Hermione currently being supported by Harry as she mumbled incoherently.

Using the wall for her own support, Octavia groaned as her head began to throb and dizziness consumed her entirely. She could barely make out what was going on around her. Slughorn had passed out on his chair thirty minutes ago when he was mid-conversation with her brother. And her brother was almost just as sloshed.

Octavia was beginning to think that someone had spiked the alcohol, or something. Or maybe, just maybe, they had all indulged in a little too much booze that evening.

Ginny and Cormac walked ahead, both laughing and singing a rendition of _The Leprechaun Jig_ quite terribly. The students in attendance scattered the corridor, each and every one of them inebriated. All except Draco, it seemed, who was currently trying to guide Blaise down the corridor as Blaise argued with the Knight in the portraits.

"PARTY IN THE HEAD COMMON ROOM!" Hermione shouted, raising her arms in the air as everyone whooped around her.

Octavia giggled quietly, finding that drunk Hermione was a blast to be around, and the prospect of continuing in their festivities was definitely tempting. But it was certainly out of character, so Octavia couldn't help but feel somewhat suspicious. Oh, wait. No, that was not suspicion she was feeling.

Octavia frowned before puking her last glass of honeywine onto the stone floor, scowling at the substance as though it had offended her greatly. And it had, for specks of it splattered onto her expensive stiletto sandals.

She groaned as Draco glanced over his shoulder at her, the handsome blonde clenching his jaw before he left Blaise shouting at the portrait Knight and approached her instead.

"You couldn't have waited until you reached a bathroom?" Draco drawled, eyeing her coolly.

Octavia hiccupped in response before bursting into a fit of giggles at her improper display. If her mother and father saw her now … Well, it wouldn't be good.

Draco remained perfectly stoic as he regarded her with cold eyes, flicking his hand once to remove the vomit from the floor and her shoes. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a handkerchief which he used to wipe the traces of vomit from her lips and chin, Octavia swaying on the spot as he did so.

"Ew," Octavia giggled as he stuffed the cloth back into his pocket, Draco quirking his brow at her.

"Come on," Draco sighed, wrapping his arm around her waist and supporting her as she stumbled down the corridor. "Your night is over."

"No," Octavia whined. "I wanna go to the party."

"I believe you have partied enough for one night." Draco retorted, his tone commanding.

"No I haven't," Octavia scowled. "I'm going to the party."

Draco clenched his jaw as he guided the drunken beauty down the corridor, but didn't speak. Instead, he relented.

It was shaping up to be an interesting night.


	18. Chapter 18

The Pureblood Squib Chapter 18

* * *

As the Head Boy and Girl were rostered to patrol that night, the unlikely group of intoxicated students made it to their destination without error. No Professors or Prefects were encountered during the joyous and surprisingly long journey. It had taken Draco fifteen minutes alone to end Blaise's argument with the Knight, the latter following the group through the portraits to shout insults at the drunken Italian. Once successfully redirecting Blaise's attention to returning to the Head Dormitories, Draco again approached a sloshed Octavia and essentially carried her back to their destination.

Blaise now appeared to be in good spirits as he drank directly from a bottle of firewhiskey he had kept in his bedroom with the rest of his alcohol stashes. Octavia had eagerly devoured an entire bottle of honeywine with Hermione in the first ten minutes of arriving at the Head dormitories. No one had given either girl the bottle of expensive alcohol; they had spotted it on the coffee table and snagged it straight away. And now they hid in the corner as they tried to shake the last drops out of the empty bottle.

The music resounded throughout the room, increasing the already cheery atmosphere among the students. But it wasn't until the song changed to _Do the Hippogriff_ that Octavia remembered the missing member of their trio.

"Oh!" Octavia gasped as Hermione eyed the empty bottle with disdain. "We should get Luna!"

Hermione gaped, stricken that the idea was not her own. Although that wine was definitely messing with her usually brilliant mind.

"Let's go!" Octavia announced, grabbing a sloshed Ninny's arm and hauling her over to the exit.

Both girls stumbled as they made their way to the portrait door, Draco and Blaise watching them both from the sitting area with narrowed eyes. Before the girls could even reach the door, Draco and Blaise had stood and approached them in an impressive matter of seconds.

"Where are you going?" Blaise drawled, his dark eyes fixed on Hermione.

"To get Luna," Ninny responded, her tone void of any friendliness whatsoever.

"You think it wise to roam the castle in your current state?" Draco asked coolly, his stare fixed on a swaying O.

"I do what I want," Octavia mumbled, her brows furrowed as she returned his cold stare.

Draco quirked his brow as he regarded her coolly, taking a determined step toward her.

"Is that so?" Draco drawled icily.

"Yup," Octavia nodded before stumbling, not affected by his dominating attitude in the slightest.

"We will fetch her," Blaise sighed, his unfocused eyes flicking between the two inebriated girls.

"There's no way Luna will go with you two," Hermione laughed.

"She will if we retrieve Theodore first." Blaise smirked, Hermione frowning in response.

"True," O nodded. "Get more honeywine too."

Blaise only rolled his eyes, but the small smile on his lips told Octavia that he would grant her request. A win in her books.

Draco kept his cold eyes on Octavia as Blaise went to leave, the former appearing reluctant to depart the Head Common Room. With one last glance at a hiccupping Octavia, Draco turned and strode out of the communal area, leaving a sloshed Octavia behind.

O stood, swaying on the spot, as she watched the two Slytherins disappear through the portrait door, a frown on her pretty face. Was it just her, or were they being … nice? Very strange.

Shrugging it off, Octavia turned to look at Ninny, but found that her friend had already fled to the sitting area, and was now conversing with Harry and Ginny. Well, not really 'conversing' so much as laughing and mimicking Slughorn.

"Hey, Octavia." Cormac smiled as he approached her, O taking to leaning against the wall for support.

"Hi," she responded, a tight smile gracing her lips.

O didn't necessarily dislike the guy, but she was certainly wary of him due to their earlier conversation at dinner.

"Sorry about what I said," Cormac smiled sheepishly, evidently used to getting his way by means of his undeniable charm. "I didn't know that your parents weren't like the others. It was rude of me to assume."

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly that he was rude.

"Start again?" Cormac asked, grinning widely as he extended his hand.

"Ok," Octavia said as she shook his clammy hand.

"So," Cormac began, evidently eager to change the subject. "Hermione, eh? What's the deal with her?"

"Uh … What do you mean?"

"Well, is she single? She and Potter seem pretty close. And Ron Weasley … Is she dating either of them?"

"They're just friends." Octavia shrugged as they both glanced at Hermione on the sofa with Harry. Harry who appeared to be getting a little close with Ginny as they leaned in toward one another, Hermione evidently straining to hear what they were saying.

"That's cool," Cormac nodded.

"Cool?" Octavia frowned, not sure what he meant by that.

"It's a muggle saying," Cormac laughed. "Force of habit, sorry. Mum says it all the time."

"What does it mean?"

"It means that something is … great. Good, you know?"

"Cool," Octavia grinned, trying out the new word.

Cormac just laughed in response.

"So what's it like having a muggle mum?"

"Normal," Cormac shrugged. "For me at least. She cooks muggle food, but I'm used to that so I like it. She makes this broth every Sunday. I miss it."

"Why every Sunday?"

"Well, that's a muggle thing. Every Sunday the whole family comes around and we have a massive dinner. Sometimes a barbeque, and it goes on for hours. It's nice."

"What a bibque?"

"A barbeque," Cormac laughed. "It's an outside grill that you cook on."

"You cook _outside_?" Octavia gaped, her eyes wide with astonishment. "That's so weird."

"What does your family do on Sundays?" Cormac asked, laughing somewhat at her perplexed expression.

"We just have normal dinners," Octavia shrugged. "We sometimes go out to restaurants with other families. Mainly the Malfoys."

"I like my Sunday's better," Cormac teased.

"Cool." Octavia grinned.

Cormac laughed, joining O against the wall as they watched the party swing on joyously.

At present, Ginny had scooted even closer to Harry, their thighs touching as they whispered to one another. Hermione had somehow found a spare bottle of butterbeer and was taking generous gulps of the smooth drink as she sat on the sofa, scowling at the simmering fireplace, evidently lost in thought. Hannah Abbott was dancing by the booming radio with Melinda Bobbins, and Padma Patil appeared to be eating Michael Corner's face. Lovely.

"It's a bit weird, isn't it?" Cormac asked. "That we all got so drunk from a few drinks at a dinner hosted by a Professor."

Octavia bit her lip as she turned her face to the side, looking up at the Gryffindor boy.

"Do you think someone spiked the drinks?" Octavia asked.

"Definitely," Cormac laughed.

"Who?" Octavia gasped, not recalling any suspicious behaviour at the dinner.

"Don't know." Cormac shrugged. "But if I did, I would thank them."

"Why?"

"This is fun," Cormac smiled, his gaze remaining on Hermione. "And I get to talk to someone I never had the chance to before."

Octavia knew instantly that he wasn't referring to her- he was referring to Hermione.

"Then go talk to her," Octavia smiled.

Cormac nodded, his expression turning serious before he inhaled deeply. The Gryffindor was certainly nervous about approaching Hermione, Octavia finding the observation to be rather cute. He seemed like an alright guy, so she was more than happy to push him in the direction of her friend.

"You'll be cool," Octavia smiled, trying and failing miserably to use the muggle word properly.

Cormac laughed before pushing himself from the wall and approached the sofa where Hermione sat, Octavia watching the scene intently.

* * *

Octavia squealed in glee as the portrait door swung open, revealing Luna and the Slytherin Trio. Jumping up from the armchair, Octavia ran over to her sober friend and pulled her into a tight hug, completely ignoring the Slytherins as they slipped by them. Although she did notice the bag of alcohol in Theo's hand.

Hermione joined the two girls by the doorway, leaving Cormac on the sofa with a frown.

"Luna!" Hermione greeted, hugging the girl as Octavia released her hold on her.

Octavia began shoving the two girls toward the desk in the far corner of the room, away from the other partygoers. Once she was satisfied that Luna and Hermione would make their way to the desk without her supervision, O turned and scurried over to the coffee table, snatching another bottle of honeywine before joining her two friends.

When she approached her friends, Octavia's gossipy side immediately emerged as Hermione interrogated an airy Luna.

"I just don't understand how anyone would just agree to go off with those three," Hermione sighed, her words slurring slightly as Luna perched herself on the desk. "They're obviously not to be trusted. What were you thinking?"

"Theo wouldn't hurt her," Octavia interjected, unscrewing the lid of the honeywine.

"You can't know that for certain," Hermione said, seating herself on the window seat as Octavia joined Luna on the desk. "He's one of them."

"One of who?" Octavia asked before taking a gulp of the sweet, syrupy wine.

"The Slytherin Trio," Hermione scowled. "You can't just go wandering the castle with them whenever they come knocking."

"They said that you sent them," Luna chimed, taking the offered honeywine from O. "I trust Theodore."

"Why?" Hermione asked in exasperation. "You don't know him."

"Because he fancies her, obviously," Octavia sighed, rolling her eyes. "And Luna fancies him."

"I do not," Luna blushed a bright shade of red. "He is a friend."

"A friend?" O laughed. "How many times have you guys actually spoken?"

"Three," Luna answered confidently, Octavia bursting into a fit of giggles at her expense.

"Great friends," Octavia grinned as Hermione laughed.

"Was it uncomfortable?" Ninny asked. "Walking back with them?"

"Yeah, it's a long walk from the Ravenclaw Tower," Octavia added.

"It was fine," Luna smiled.

Her response was hardly reassuring, however. Luna wouldn't know an awkward situation if it bit her on the ass. Probably because she was the cause of so many awkward situations though.

"So what did Cormac say?" Octavia asked, swinging her legs over the edge of the table as she eyed the honeywine greedily.

"He just kept talking about Quidditch," Hermione frowned. "It was quite strange, really."

"He likes you," O sang, a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes.

"Well the feeling isn't mutual," Hermione sighed, glancing over at Cormac.

At that moment, Cormac appeared to be trying it on with Ginny, Harry standing moodily beside the fiery red-head.

"I think he's charming," Octavia shrugged.

"He is," Hermione nodded. "But I don't like him in that way."

"Who _do_ you like?" Octavia grinned as Luna handed over the honeywine.

"No one."

"That's such a lie." Octavia groaned, her patience wearing thin over her friend's denial.

It was as clear as day that Hermione carried a torch for her brother, and vice versa. Not that it would matter in the long run, anyway. They were not destined to be together, if his marriage contract with Pansy was anything to go by.

"I'm not lying." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I am much too busy with my studies and Head Girl position to be concerned about silly crushes."

"Whatever," Octavia mumbled, evidently not buying it.

Octavia attempted to ignore the dizziness that plagued her, training her eyes on her strappy black heels. It was then that something caught her attention- something that she hadn't noticed before.

"Luna, why are you wearing odd shoes?" Octavia asked, frowning at the opposite shoes on her friend's feet.

"I couldn't find a matching pair," Luna shrugged, completely unabashed by her mismatched footwear.

"Ok then," Octavia laughed, Hermione staring at the footwear with wide eyes.

And then something awful happened: They finished the honeywine.

* * *

Draco swirled his tumbler leisurely before taking a sip, his cold eyes fixed on the wizard-born giggling at the other end of the room. While his eyes were on her, his attention was on the subject at hand.

"You should go to Snape about it," Theo advised, his casual tone suggesting that he didn't care either way. "You should have worked on the proposal together."

"It is too late to change the theme," Blaise drawled, his dark eyes glazed over from his intoxicated state. "Not much can be done about it now."

"Did you confront her?" Draco asked coolly, his eyes remaining on the wizard-born across the room.

"I did." Blaise clipped.

"And?" Theo pressed.

"And she hexed me into a shelf." Blaise spat, his anger evident in his tone. "In saying that, I am certain that I got my point across."

Draco nodded once, his lips threatening to twist into a smile as Octavia laughed so hard that she fell off of the desk.

"You know, Octavia has written to father about the Christmas Banquet," Blaise announced dryly.

Draco returned his attention to his Italian comrade, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"She is trying to persuade him to allow her to bring a friend." Blaise explained. "Granger."

"A mudblood at a pureblood function?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows. "Your father surely denied her request."

"I do not think he has," Blaise answered, his dark eyes meeting Draco's. "He is considering it, I believe."

"It will not be allowed." Draco clipped sternly.

"The banquet will be hosted at the Zabini chateau in the South of France," Blaise countered. "Ultimately, the decision is my father's and his alone."

"Then he best choose wisely," Draco retorted, the warning evident in his words.

It would cause a major uproar in pureblood society if a muggle-born were to attend their functions. Particularly one as colossal as the upcoming Christmas Banquet. Families of ancient bloodlines across Europe and Britain would be in attendance, requiring the upmost respect of their blood-status. Not all families in attendance would necessarily care or be offended at the presence of a muggle-born, but most would. The Malfoys in particular. It may even cause many families to decline their invitations, especially if the Malfoys chose to do so.

Even the fact that Leonardo Zabini was considering inviting a muggle-born was a dangerous concern indeed.

Although Draco had no doubt that this concern would only be expressed by some pureblood families. For not all of them possessed discriminatory or prejudicial sentiments toward those not belonging to their blood status. Some families merely wished to preserve the bloodlines for the sake of ancestry.

Blaise evidently chose to not respond as he craned his neck, looking behind him at the giggling trio of girls by the desk.

"Excuse me," Blaise drawled, standing as he grabbed another bottle of honeywine.

Draco quirked his brow as he watched Blaise stride over to the girls, his motives for joining them crystal clear. Draco was aware of Blaise's conflicted feelings for the mudblood Granger, yet he always assumed that his Italian comrade would ignore and deny these forbidden emotions. It appeared that it did not apply whilst intoxicated.

* * *

Hermione narrowed her eyes vehemently as Blaise approached, carrying a bottle of honeywine. His gaze locked with hers as he neared, his jaw clenched tightly, Hermione mentally reminding herself of the location of her wand- safe and sound, tucked away in the pocket of her red cocktail dress.

"Granger," Blaise greeted, handing her the bottle of honeywine.

Octavia jumped off the desk, grabbing Luna's arm as she gave the girl a meaningful look. Luna, of course, was completely oblivious to the implications of Octavia's glance, remaining on the desk before she was ungracefully yanked from it by O.

Hermione pursed her lips as she watched her two friends scurry off, leaving her alone in the corner with the Head Boy. His hand was still outstretched, offering her the honeywine, a patient expression on his handsome features. She didn't even glance at the offered bottle, choosing to stare him dead in the eye, a defiant glint in her brown orbs.

Blaise shrugged dismissively before unscrewing the lid of the honeywine and taking a gulp, proving to her that it was not meddled with. He assumed that was the reason for her rude rejection of the bottle. And he was correct, it appeared.

Hermione snatched the bottle from his hand as he smirked, taking a sip of the syrupy liquid, her eyes not leaving his.

"Enjoying your night?" Blaise drawled, moving to sit beside her on the window seat.

"I _was_." Hermione retorted.

"Ah," Blaise grinned widely. "Does my presence affect you so greatly? And here I thought that I was irrelevant."

"You are irrelevant." Hermione grumbled, taking another swig of honeywine.

"Words hurt, Granger." Blaise smirked, taking the bottle from her.

"So does being assaulted in the library," Hermione spat as he sipped the sweet liquid.

"You did not enjoy it?" Blaise feigned surprise. "I found it to be rather exciting, truth be told."

"You are insufferable," Hermione scoffed, eyeing him with disdain. "You had no right to do that! You had no right to take something that did not belong to you!"

"What did I take, Granger?" Blaise quirked his brow, reclining against the window.

"Something that wasn't yours to take," Hermione hissed.

"Was that your first kiss?" Blaise asked, his brows furrowed. As though he was almost concerned. But that was silly.

"That's none of your business," Hermione grumbled.

Blaise considered her in silence for a moment, watching as she drank from the bottle, her brown eyes alight with fury and disappointment. It was all the confirmation he required.

"I apologise," Blaise said, scooting closer to her as she turned to eye him cautiously. "I did not realise, and you are correct; it was not mine to take."

"That doesn't make up for what you did."

"I agree." Blaise nodded, his expression regretful. "Allow me the opportunity to make it up to you."

"How?" Hermione frowned, eyeing him warily.

"Allow me to accompany you to the Halloween Ball," Blaise requested.

* * *

Tuning out of the discussion of Nargles between Theo and Luna, Octavia hummed atrociously along with the song that sounded through the bustling common room. Her sparkly eyes roamed around the room interestedly, resting on Ginny and Harry as they snogged shamelessly in the far corner, almost hidden by the shadows. Despite the shadows, Octavia could still see them and wouldn't hesitate to mock them the following day for their repulsive display.

Her gaze tore away from the sloppy Gryffindors, travelling around the room before settling on Blaise and Hermione. They sat side by side on the window seat, Ninny looking rather moody and put out. But Octavia saw it. She saw the close proximity in which they sat together, their legs touching lightly as they conversed. There was no doubt in O's mind that Blaise was teasing Ninny; it seemed to be a hobby of his. To tease the girl he fancied. How immature.

Already bored with the interaction, Octavia sighed as she pushed herself from the wall and left Theo and Luna to continue their conversation in private. Instead, she waltzed over to the sofa and dropped onto it in a heap. With everyone seemingly busy around her, Octavia's fun was already reducing.

* * *

After an eternity of thick silence, Blaise repeated himself as Hermione gaped stupidly at him.

"Allow me to accompany you to the Halloween Ball, and I will ensure that your night is enjoyable."

"You're disgusting." Hermione spat, jumping off the window seat.

Blaise quickly followed, grabbing her arm before she could flee.

"I meant no implications when I said I 'enjoyable'. I only mean to rectify my mistake." Blaise said, his dark eyes penetrating her suspicious brown orbs.

"Why on earth would you think I would go to the Ball with you?" Hermione scoffed.

"I don't." Blaise answered, closing the small distance between them. "But one can hope."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hermione frowned, staring up at him with a mixture of confusion and caution.

"I am talking about you and I," Blaise replied, his tone soft. "I am requesting the honour of escorting you to the Ball. I am asking for the opportunity to rectify my mistake."

Hermione frowned, her brown eyes regarding him with palpable suspicion as he sighed.

"You are an intelligent woman, Granger." Blaise said, his hand still clasped around her arm. "But there is so much that you are oblivious to."

"Like what?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"This, for instance," Blaise smirked, his hand moving from her arm to her chin.

Slowly, Blaise's fingers gripped her chin gently, tilting her head upwards, aligning her face with his. His lips pressed softly against hers, placing a gentle kiss before pulling back again.

The dazed look in her eyes provided him with all the encouragement he needed.

Blaise gripped her chin tighter, pressing his lips against hers again, kissing her just as gently as before. This time she responded, and he had no doubt in his mind that it was due to her intoxicated state. But that didn't stop him. Hesitantly, her lips parted, granting him access to her mouth, which he took all too eagerly.

His tongue delved into her mouth, his fingers leaving her chin, burying into her curls instead. It was only a matter of seconds before the gentleness gave way to the passion soaring within him.

Hermione found herself being spun around and pressed against the wall, increasing her dizziness as his tongue battled hers for domination. One hand buried tightly in her hair, the other gripping onto her waist firmly as he possessed her mouth. Alarm bells rung loudly in her mind, but the noise was dimmed somewhat by her hazy state. The only thing that sounded out clearly to her in that moment was Blaise's groans as he devoured her hungrily, and her own moans as she reciprocated.

If she had been sober, there was no doubt that she would hex the snake out of him again. But she wasn't, so she didn't. Hermione gave into his harsh kiss, relishing in the sensations stirring within her. The flame that she harboured for him, erupting into a fire at her core, and worst of all, in her heart.

Her heart.

Until that very moment, Hermione had not realised that she had ever cared for Blaise in that particular area of her anatomy. She had always just dismissed her unwanted sentiments for the snake to be little more than a crush. But by the way her heart soared splendidly and her tummy flipped excitedly, Hermione knew. It was more than a crush.

And the door to those feelings she had locked away for so long, was now open.

* * *

As the celebrations carried on to the wee hours of the morning, one by one, each partygoer either passed out in a random spot of the common room, or was about to. Octavia belonged to the latter group. Currently, she lay on the sofa, listening to the indecipherable whispers of private conversations that carried through the air, her bare feet resting on the arm of the couch. Her forearm rested over her weary eyes as her stomach churned at the sensations that plagued her. Octavia was absolutely certain that the room was spinning. It was a horrid feeling. A feeling that induced the most atrocious wave of nausea to wash over her, her toes curling as she groaned quietly.

Fingers gently clasped her ankles, lifting them up as the couch dipped slightly. Octavia merely assumed that Hermione had decided to sit with her on the sofa, her legs now resting over her lap. It wasn't until the new company spoke that she realised it was not Ninny who had joined her.

"How are you feeling?" The familiar aristocratic drawl asked, Octavia jolting up at the sound of it.

The sudden movement of her sitting up caused Octavia's head to throb and the room spin even more as she frowned, unable to clearly focus on the man in front of her. Draco Malfoy sat beside her on the sofa, her feet resting on his lap, his cloudy grey eyes regarding her coolly. But his tone had not possessed its usual iciness, causing Octavia to frown as he came into focus.

"Like you care," Octavia scoffed as she shimmied away from him, folding her legs in front of her.

Draco followed her movements, reclining against the arm of the sofa as she sat cross-legged before him. His eyes raked over her bare thighs as she gripped the hem of her dress and pulled it down to her knees before he met her gaze. It was clear from his nonchalant position and casual sip of firewhiskey that he wasn't going to respond to her remark, opting to merely regard her instead.

"What do you want, Draco?" Octavia groaned, her intoxicated state evident in her slurred words.

"What were you and McLaggen discussing?" Draco asked, dismissing her question.

"What?"

"What were you discussing with McLaggen during dinner?" Draco repeated patiently.

"Why?"

"Humour me." Draco shrugged nonchalantly as Octavia frowned at him in confusion.

"Um … We were talking about purebloods." Octavia mumbled. "His father is one. And he asked why I was sent to Hogwarts."

Octavia didn't choose to leave out the part where Cormac implied that her parents were followers of the Dark Lord- in her confused and inebriated state, she simply forgot in that moment.

"I see." Draco nodded, swirling his tumbler leisurely. "Is that all?"

"Yeah," Octavia frowned, tilting her head as she observed him with hazy eyes. "Why?"

"You appeared upset following your conversation with him," Draco responded casually.

"Maybe you're confusing my reaction with talking to _you_ ," Octavia mumbled, averting her eyes instantly as he quirked his brow.

Draco placed his tumbler on the coffee table before moving closer to her slightly, his arm draped over the back of the sofa. Her hazel eyes met his as he extended his hand, his palm open just above her folded legs.

"I was not always cruel to you," Draco said quietly, his words barely audible.

Her gaze moved to his open hand as a flower appeared. A Saffron Crocus. The very same flower he had showed her in the Malfoy Manor gardens in their youth.

A gentle smile graced her plump lips as he offered the purple flower to her, Octavia clasping her slender fingers around the long stem.

"Do you remember that day?" Draco asked, watching her as she gazed warmly at the flower.

"Yeah," Octavia smiled, nodding slightly. "The flower is me."

"It is," Draco agreed, moving closer to her as she continued to smile at the beautiful flower. "It has always been you."

Octavia frowned in confusion at his words, her bright hazel eyes looking up at him as he cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing over her smooth skin. Slowly, Draco's face inched toward hers, their eyes remaining connected until his nose brushed against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as his hand travelled to her loose curls, his fingers tangled in the ringlets as his soft lips pressed against hers.

She should have slapped him again. She should have punched him straight in the face, or puked all over him. She should have done anything other than what she did. She should have done anything but accept him.

Her lips parted slightly, her heart pounding violently in her chest as his tongue delved into her mouth gently, a light sigh escaping her lips. His tongue swept over hers softly, her head lolling back to allow him further entrance to her mouth. Each and every flick of his tongue over hers caused her entire body to alight with desire and affection, stirring the emotions she had thought were long gone deep inside of her. The emotions she had felt for him many years ago.

Her palms pressed against his solid chest as he deepened the kiss, his tongue massaging hers sensually as his fingers played with her curls. Slowly, Draco pushed against her, guiding her onto her back as his body towered over hers, their kiss continuing. He supported his weight with his forearms so as not to crush her petite frame, their tongues dancing together sensually.

Overwhelming waves of affection washed over her, the slow and deep kiss causing her core to ache terribly. Maybe it was due to the alcohol that she felt the things she did. Or maybe they had been there all along, buried deep within her aching heart.

Her mind was far too foggy in that moment to consider the source of her feelings, however. The very moment she began to contemplate it, his tongue would flick over hers and reignite the lusty daze within her. There were no doubts or concerns in her intoxicated mind. She did not fret over her kissing skills. She did not worry about the taste of her breath, or if she reeked of alcohol. She was not repulsed by the taste of firewhiskey that coated his tongue, only able to taste the peppermint and nostalgia.

Fingers entwined with hers, pinning her hands at the sides of her head, his kiss remaining gentle and sweet. Like he used to be with her. Like their first kiss. So gentle. So sweet.

So loving.

Suddenly, a wretched blow of nausea assaulted her tummy, bile creeping up her throat as she groaned. Draco ended their kiss, pulling back slightly as he stared down at her with stormy grey eyes.

Octavia frowned as she paled visibly, Draco recognising instantly what was about to occur. Swiftly, Draco pushed himself from her entirely, sitting on his knees as he conjured a bucket with wandless magic. His arm slipped underneath her back, hauling her into a sitting position, placing the bucket on her lap just in time.

A horrid sound escaped her throat as she vomited into the bucket, her eyes glistening with tears. She wasn't crying out of self-pity or the realisation of what she had just done with Draco. She just always tended to cry when she vomited. A normal reaction for some.

Fingers brushed through her tresses as she curled over the bucket, heaving and retching up the remnants of honeywine in her tummy. The acidic smell lingered in the air, Draco holding her hair back as she continued in her humiliating display. Although she wasn't exactly embarrassed in that moment, for she was much too intoxicated to focus on anything other than the horrid pain at retching again.

Groaning, Octavia pushed the bucket away from her as her vision blurred, no more alcohol left to rid herself of. Her eyelids fluttered shut as her brow creased, something cold and damp pressed against her forehead. Before she could realise what it was, darkness took her and she passed out on the sofa.

Entirely unaware of Draco tending to her.

* * *

Something solid and firm was pressed against her chest, heavy limbs draped over her body. A horrid pounding sensation assaulted her head as she forced her eyelids open slowly, bright light piercing her eyes fiercely. All she could see was a glowing white light, her eyes burning from the brightness of her surroundings. Frowning in confusion and pain, Octavia attempted to clear her vision, blinking rapidly as she allowed her eyes to adjust.

Once her vision had cleared, Octavia's confusion increased at what she saw before her. A pale, muscular chest, completely void of any hair. Smooth looking, but solid too. Like silky marble, right before her very eyes.

Slowly, her apprehensive hazel eyes dragged up the chest, moving over collarbones, trailing up a neck and resting on the familiar face of one Draco Malfoy. Her eyes almost bulged out of her head at the sight.

Draco slept soundly, his handsome features peaceful and his breathing steady. His pink lips were parted slightly, his usually clenched jaw relaxed. But that was not what was disturbing about the scene.

The muscular arms of Draco were wrapped tightly around her body, holding her against him as his leg draped over hers. While his chest was bare, his trousers remained on, soothing her worst fears instantly. Octavia took great relief in the realisation that they had not done anything irreversibly inappropriate, but that did not mean that she didn't recall their snogging session. Thankfully, however, as they were both still dressed in their attire from the Slug Club, Octavia was absolutely certain that their antics had not gone further than a snog. Well, they were mostly still in their attire from the previous night. Draco was without a shirt; a shirt that was on Octavia, a few buttons done up, the expensive material providing her arms and thighs with warmth.

As stealthily as possible, Octavia slipped out of his arms, careful not to rouse him as she attempted to escape the horrid situation. Despite their kiss the night prior, and his out-of-character display of kindness, Octavia still loathed the man with a burning passion. She had merely had a little too much to drink, and acted accordingly. If anything, Octavia despised him even more now.

Successfully removing herself from his tangled limbs, Octavia scooted off of the sofa before standing on her shaky legs. The room, like the night prior, was spinning, a horrid headache assaulting her without mercy.

Rubbing her hand against her creased forehead, Octavia's weary hazel eyes scanned the room swiftly. She did not like what she saw in the slightest.

Luna was out-cold on the rug, wrapped in the embrace of Theodore Nott. Much like she and Draco, the pair were still fully clothed, suggesting that they had not entered into any regretful activities with one another. However, the shining hickeys on Luna's neck told another story altogether. Shivering in disgust, Octavia turned around and grimaced as she spotted Ninny.

The muggle-born witch was sound asleep on the armchair on her brother's lap, Blaise's arms holding her against him as he joined her in slumberland.

What the hell had gone on last night?

The last thing that Octavia remembered was the kiss with Draco before puking her guts up in a bucket. At no point did she recall Hermione and Blaise getting it on, or Theo and Luna for that matter. Was she really that drunk to the point that she blacked out? Or had consciousness left her before everyone started making out?

She had no idea.

What she did know, however, was that the grandfather clock was ticking closer and closer to breakfast time by the second. And she sure as hell didn't want to be in this room when it chimed in less than a minute, awaking all occupants.

It may have been best for Octavia to wake her friends before the clock chimed, but in that moment, all she wanted to do was flee. So that's exactly what Octavia did.

Biting her lip, Octavia slipped out of the large, white shirt and set it gently on the arm of the sofa. Grabbing her strappy heels from underneath the coffee table, Octavia turned and escaped the common room, slipping out quietly as the portrait door shut behind her.

Not wasting a second, Octavia took off down the corridor, sprinting with bare feet against the cold and rough ground. She was eager to make it back to the Slytherin dormitories as quickly as possible. She still had to shower and change for the day ahead- the day that she would suffer through with the worst hangover of her entire life, coupled with the horrid realisation that she had cheated on Cedric.

Could life possibly get any worse?

* * *

Harry rested his face against the hard wood of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, groaning occasionally to convey the severity of his hangover. Octavia felt no sympathy. For she was far too submerged in her own waves of nausea and dizziness to care about anyone else's misery. The long, grand table was occupied with excited students ready to embark on their Saturday trip to Hogsmeade, much like the rest of the students in the Great Hall. All except the select few that had attended the Slug Club dinner the night before.

Harry, Hermione, Luna, Ginny and Octavia all sat together at the end of the Gryffindor table, each and every one of them quiet and miserable. Their eyes and groans all told the same story; do not speak to me. For they had all participated in the most awful of acts the night prior.

Octavia was absolutely certain that Harry kept his face pressed against the tabletop so that he would not have to lock eyes with Ginny. The fiery Gryffindor herself featured an unusually white complexion as she sat still at the table, her troubled gaze on her mug of black coffee. Not one of the hungover partygoers had a plate of food before them, all much too nauseas to stomach the substance. Instead, they all had full goblets of fresh water and mugs of black coffee.

The sound of Harry moving in his seat caught everyone's attention, the pale boy rising from his place at the table and strolling out of the Great Hall without so much as a goodbye. How polite.

But Octavia was definitely relieved at his departure. For she had been burning with questions all breakfast. Questions that she now had the opportunity to fire at Ginny.

"So?" Octavia whispered urgently, leaning across the table as Ginny reluctantly met her inquisitive gaze. "What the hell happened with you two? I woke up and you guys weren't there, and I sure as hell don't remember you leaving."

"Oh, we were there," Ginny nodded, her eyes dim with shame. "We were in Hermione's bed."

Hermione groaned, rubbing her hands over her weary face as she resisted the urge to shiver. The first order of business that day was to burn her sheets to ash.

"Did you …" Octavia began, letting the implication linger in the air.

"Yeah," Ginny sighed, paling even further if possible.

"Wow," Octavia raised her brows. "Your brother's best friend."

"Kind of like you, eh?" Ginny bit. "You and your brother's best friend."

Octavia face lit up with humiliation as she blinked before scowling.

"I didn't have sex with him," Octavia scowled. "We just –"

"Slept together after an intense snogging session," Ginny interrupted, eyeing Octavia with triumph.

"Whatever," Octavia groaned, resting her chin on her hands, her elbows on the table.

"I kissed Blaise," Hermione whispered, the shame of her confession evident in her pained expression. "A lot."

Octavia sighed, finding that she wasn't even annoyed or surprised. It was quite obvious that they had gotten a little too close from their sleeping arrangements that morning.

"Theo kissed me," Luna chimed, a soft smile on her pretty face.

The girl didn't seem downcast in the slightest about her announcement. In fact, her sparkly blue eyes frequently flicked to the Slytherin table to lock into Theo's mischievous gaze. Gross.

"I cheated on my boyfriend," Octavia croaked, her face scrunched up. "With fucking Draco Malfoy."

"You … what?" Ginny frowned. "Boyfriend?"

"What boyfriend?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"My secret boyfriend," Octavia murmured before biting her bottom lip sheepishly.

"You have a _boyfriend?_ " Hermione shouted, her voice a carrying throughout the Great Hall.

Octavia blushed deeply as the majority of students looked her way interestedly, fierce grey eyes burning a hole in her fucking soul. Instantly, Octavia groaned, sinking further into her chair as though it would shield her from everyone's stares.

"Couldn't have said that any quieter?" Octavia mumbled, her narrowed eyes on a baffled Hermione.

"I think that Cedric is a lovely boyfriend to have," Luna chimed, Octavia glaring at the girl.

Octavia had never told Luna about her relationship with Cedric, but not much got passed that girl, so she wasn't surprised. She was, however, fucking livid at Luna announcing it in front of Hermione and Ginny.

"Cedric?" Hermione hissed, leaning across the table. "Are you kidding me, O?"

O merely shrugged guiltily in response, not meeting her furious brown eyes.

"How long have you been dating for?" Ginny asked eagerly, her eyes alight with gossipy intrigue.

"A few weeks," Octavia murmured, her cheeks bright red. She could definitely feel Draco's furious eyes on her. Not good. Definitely not good.

"A _professor_?" Hermione seethed, her curls growing wilder with her evident anger. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I was _thinking_ ," Octavia snapped quietly, "that he's a great person and a potential suitor, ok? I don't want to marry some random person that I've never met and who doesn't give a shit about me! I want to be with someone who actually cares! Is that too much to ask? Does that make me a terrible person, Ninny? If so, then call me the fucking devil."

Octavia stood from her seat abruptly, turning and storming out of the Great Hall huffily, Hermione's regretful gaze watching her go.

In fact, more than one person watched the wizard-born depart the Great Hall. Amongst the curious stares was a confused gaze from Cedric Diggory at the faculty table, his brows furrowed. And then, of course, there was Draco's murderous eyes fixed intently on the girl as she left. His anger only increased by the realisation that their progress the previous night had meant nothing to her.

And everything to him.


	19. Chapter 19

The Pureblood Squib Chapter 19

* * *

Ink-stained parchment and worn-out quills scattered the desk that Octavia sat upon, her legs spread to accommodate her Professor's position in front of her. She smiled against his lips as his hands slipped under her silk blouse and gripped her waist loosely, his thumbs brushing softly against the smooth skin. Like the last few visits to Professor Diggory's office that week, Octavia had gone to talk and explain the night of the Slug Club to him. Yet, each time her courage failed her and instead, she successfully distracted him by means of her lips and body.

After months of dating in secret, her closest friends – plus Ginny – were now aware of the nature of their inappropriate relationship. It wasn't a weight off her shoulders- Hermione remained bitter and distant with her, while Ginny pressed for details constantly. It was quite annoying, really.

Her only reprieve from the miserable week she had endured was Cedric. So she only allowed herself to feel a slight flicker of guilt whilst he massaged her tongue with his, her cheating escapades going unspoken. What good could really come of informing him of her drunken antics with Draco the weekend prior? None. So she decided in that moment, that it was better left unsaid. He cannot be angry about something that he does not know of.

Octavia was absolutely certain that she was receiving punishment enough for her mistakes the week prior. Draco had been as cold and distant as ever, which definitely was not a good sign. In her experience, it meant that something was brewing. Likely some awful form of torment directed right her way. To say that she felt on edge whenever Draco was present would be the understatement of the century. Each time she walked through the dungeons or common room, she feared the inevitable. Her nerves were wracked with distress as he watched her with cold, yet murderous eyes. And each time, no punishment came.

That was undoubtedly the worst part. The waiting. The dreadful anticipation. The downright crippling surges of fear.

Although she couldn't help but feel the essence of hurt with her fear. Perhaps kissing Draco and being subject to his softer side reopened old wounds for her? Wounds that she thought had healed long ago. Her assumptions proved to be incorrect. Each and every time she thought he was going to initiate his attack, the ache in her heart was by far the most horrendous sensation. She barely felt the fear through the pangs in her chest. Her dreams focused more and more on her childhood relationship with the man, only serving to increase her hurt throughout the following days.

Dismissing the heartache as little more than hurtful bouts of nostalgia, Octavia submerged herself in her relationship with Cedric and her excitement over the event that was to take place the following day. The Halloween Ball.

The brilliant blue costume gown was packed away neatly in its box, hidden underneath her dormitory bed. The glass heels joined the extravagant dress underneath her bed, yet she constantly climbed underneath the furniture just to sneak another peak at the attire. Her excitement at the prospect of wearing the gown and glass slippers only seemed to increase as the Ball neared. Although she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed about attending the Ball, for she would be without a date.

It wasn't so much the fact that she was dateless, but that her boyfriend would be in attendance without her. She couldn't approach or kiss him. She couldn't dance with or talk to him. They had to keep their relationship as private as possible, particularly due to Hermione, Luna and Ginny's awareness of the nature of their relationship. If rumours were to sprout and circulate, the consequences would be less than favourable. So Octavia would attend the Ball alone, like Hermione and Luna, pretending that she wasn't in the same room with the very man she would be offering herself to later that night.

Of course Cedric had no idea of what the night had in store for him. In fact, Octavia had to attend to the preparations of the following night. Including grooming herself 'down there'. She was well aware of the popular preference to a clean and hairless 'fairy' (as her mother always called it during their talks of the owls and the blue-bees).

After a humiliating purchase at the Hogsmeade Apothecary, Octavia was now in possession of all required products for that night. Her bedside table drawer was now occupied by a selection of potions, most catering to hair removal in sensitive areas of the body. A product she was certainly nervous about using.

With a reluctant groan, Octavia removed her lips from Cedric's, effectively ending the kiss. He appeared to be equally as reluctant to end the kiss, placing his forehead on hers as he heaved a heavy sigh. It was evident from the tightness of his pants and the grip on her waist that their snogging sessions were serving to frustrate him, as opposed to pleasing him. Something that Octavia would be rectifying the following night.

"I have to go," Octavia whispered, Cedric sighing in response.

Octavia smiled as he pushed himself from her and helped her off the desk, his eyes never meeting hers. He rarely met her gaze after their little indiscretions. And she knew that it was due to the shame that he felt for entering into such activities with a student. The Hufflepuff within him just couldn't embrace their relationship, seeing the wrongness in it. Octavia's Slytherin, however, relished in the forbidden nature of their antics, only adding to her desire for the Professor.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Octavia smiled, regaining his attention.

Cedric nodded as he forced a smile in return before kissing her forehead gently. With that soft kiss, Octavia turned and tottered out of his office, high on infatuation and lust.

Simply on top of the world.

* * *

Octavia hummed atrociously as she skipped through the portrait door, entering the busy and bustling Slytherin common room. She was far too enthralled by her own excitement to bother with the stares she was instantly subject to from Draco Malfoy and Millicent Bulstrode. The latter was evidently awaiting some form of approval from Draco to initiate an attack on the wizard-born, but none came. Draco's attention was solely fixed on the oblivious Octavia as she hummed and skipped her way through the dark common room toward the staircase that would lead her to the girls' dormitories.

During the short trip to the staircase, Octavia observed the excited girls that scattered the common room, encompassed in a delightfully excited atmosphere. It appeared that she wasn't the only one who was eagerly awaiting the next day, and what came with it. The Halloween Ball.

An assortment of girls - including her old childhood friend, Pansy - sat by the crackling fireplace as they altered their slutty costumes by use of their wands. The costumes decreased in size as they levitated in the air, Octavia feeling a little envious of the provocativeness of the outfits. If she was to wear something _that_ revealing, there was no doubt in her mind that her father would hear about it by the end of the night. Again, she didn't doubt that the frequent snitcher was her brother, despite his hot and cold attitude toward her. She just didn't understand why he had to constantly make it his priority to increase her misery at Hogwarts. Although he had been rather cordial of late, offering her small smiles and nods of the head as they encountered one another in the corridors of the castle.

Alas, Octavia knew better than to take his somewhat friendly attitude as a free pass to do and wear whatever she so desired. Her brother was a sneaky snake, and not to be trusted.

Returning her gaze to her desired destination, Octavia stepped around the clusters of Slytherin students, making her way to the staircase. Molten grey eyes followed her as she exited the common room, not a single hex or jinx fired at her. Octavia, however, was still far too consumed with her own excitement and thoughts to allow herself a moment of relief at going unscathed.

She jumped joyously down the stone steps, her heels clacking as she began to outright sing a muggle song from Hermione's collection. Octavia had absolutely no idea who performed the song, but it sang of booties and repeatedly asked if she could handle said booties. The booties, she believed, belonged to three girls: Beyoncé, Kelly and Michelle. But Octavia liked to pretend that she was the one singing about her own booty, although she was lacking in that area. While her bottom was full and perky, it was definitely in proportion with her slender and petite figure. Regardless, Cedric appeared to appreciate it, always grabbing and squeezing the plump area with affection and desire.

A light shade of pink graced her cheeks as she pushed the door open to her dormitory, her thoughts on the Professor snogging her brains out while groping her with appreciation. A tingle coursed through her body, alighting her core splendidly as her anticipation for the following night grew impossibly. But all excitement, arousal and joy was thrown from her body at the scene she saw before her upon entering her dormitory. Instead, she was consumed with absolute horror and dismay as she gawked stupidly at her bed and the floor.

Shards of silvery glass scattered the ground, the fragments of her glass heels glistening in the light of the torches on the walls. Her blue gown was shredded to scraps across her bed, the tiara ripped into pieces and placed atop her pillow. Her wide horrified eyes began to burn with the inevitable tears that washed over her, pangs assaulting her heart as her face scrunched up in misery.

Her entire costume, completely and utterly destroyed beyond repair.

* * *

Blaise seated himself on the armchair, his dark and cold eyes fixed on the distracted Head Girl on the sofa. He watched in silence as she fussed over a light blue dress, her brows furrowed in concentration as her wand trailed down the seams. The material expanded and grew in some areas, tightening and decreasing in others. Blaise continued to study her as she altered her costume for the Halloween Ball, the Head Girl seemingly unaware of her observer. She was much too focused on the task at hand to notice the unspeaking companion who watched her attentively.

Although, if Hermione were to notice Blaise's presence, it was not likely to result in a conversation, for the two had not conversed once with each another since the weekend prior. Neither had spoken of the events that had transpired amongst the liquor and atmosphere of their hosted party, neither addressing his request to escort her to the Halloween Ball. They did not need to speak of his proposal, however, for Blaise to know that she had dismissed the request internally. Hermione evidently assumed that he had only asked her to accompany him to the Ball due to his undeniably intoxicated state. And she was not incorrect in her assumption.

Blaise had definitely only asked Hermione to the Ball due to his overconsumption of inebriating substances. Perhaps he should never had spiked the liquor provided at the Slug Club, but it was just so dreadfully boring to endure without the potion. It would have been better of him to spike the alcohol, but not consume it himself. Alas, he participated in the consumption of the illegal substance hidden in the liquid infusions at the dinner. Draco was the only person at the Slug Club to avoid the drugged beverages. As he normally did, however. Draco was not particularly fond of Blissful Brew, and rarely ingested the recreational potion. Regardless, Draco was currently in the final stages of concocting said potion in preparation for the Halloween Ball. It was a Slytherin tradition of sorts to contaminate the punch at such school events with mind-altering substances. This year, despite Blaise possessing the position of Head Boy, would be no different.

Of course, the know-it-all Head Girl seated across from him was not aware of this. Nor would she be, if all went to plan. And Blaise's plan involved Hermione ingesting the spiked beverages herself.

A feeble knock sounded at the portrait door, drawing both Heads' attention instantly. Hermione blinked at the door before snapping her head to the side, her gaze resting on Blaise as though she had only just realised that he was there. And she did.

Blaise rose gracefully from the armchair, not sparing a glance at the seemingly shocked Head Girl, making his way toward the entrance of the common room. His movements were slow and elegant, yet radiating patent masculinity, Hermione observing this with a frown. The kiss they had shared the weekend prior had certainly opened the door to her previous dormant crush on the man. Now, whenever he was within vicinity, she couldn't help but notice his masculinity and the sheer impossible extent of his attractiveness. Not that it mattered.

Craning her neck slightly, Hermione peeked around Blaise's muscular form to the door as it swung open. All Hermione could see from her current position on the sofa was part of a large white box. Blaise spoke quietly to whomever his body was shielding, his tone low and words indecipherable. But he stepped to the side after a moment, revealing a downcast Octavia, clutching a box to her chest as her hazel eyes searched for her target.

A sad smile graced Hermione's lips as their eyes met, Hermione feeling a wave of pity for her friend. It was evident from the look of misery on Octavia's face that the visit was not one of niceties or socialising. It was simply Octavia seeking comfort. And Hermione would provide her comfort without question.

* * *

Hermione sighed in defeat as she tucked her wand back into her pocket, her brown eyes fixed on the pile of blue scraps. The dress could not be restored to its original form, the intensity of the spell used preventing the repair. It seemed, however, that Octavia was aware of this fact as she sat cross-legged on the four-poster bed, eyeing the torn material with indifference. Although the puffiness of her blood-shot eyes suggested that she had allowed herself a sobbing fit before bringing the destroyed costume to Hermione in an attempt to have it repaired.

"Do you know who did this?" Hermione asked, placing the scraps back into the large box.

"Millie," Octavia spat, her expression contorting into one of disdain. "She's such a bitch."

Hermione nodded as she placed the lid back onto the box before moving it onto the floor.

"The Ball is tomorrow," Octavia groaned, plopping backwards onto the mattress as she gazed up at the ceiling. "What am I going to do?"

"You could dress up as a muggle?" Hermione offered, her mind whirling through images of her own clothes. "You can go through my closet."

"Ew," Octavia scowled at the thought of Hermione's unfitted jeans and lumpy sweaters. "No thanks."

"It was just a suggestion," Hermione sighed, seating herself beside a moody Octavia. "You don't have many options, O."

Octavia huffed as she dramatically rolled off the bed and walked – more like dragged herself – over to the bookshelf against the wall. Her slender index finger reached out and grazed across the spines of the books, her eyes scanning the titles swiftly. When she spotted what she was searching for, Octavia grabbed the book and removed it from the shelf.

"They all require costumes, O." Hermione said, watching as her friend flipped open the book of various fairy tales.

"Yeah, but we can maybe change a dress of mine or something," Octavia countered, lazily returning to the bed as she scanned the pages of the thick book.

Hermione thinned her lips, not wishing to voice her response. Octavia was showing hope of finding a new costume idea and Hermione did not want to dim that hope with the reality of the situation. Even with magic, it would difficult to alter regular attire to the extent that was required to resemble a fairy-tale character's costume. Particularly in the collection of fairy tales that Octavia was skimming through.

"What about Alice?" Octavia asked as she jumped back onto the bed.

"Alice in Wonderland?" Hermione pondered aloud. "I suppose that could work. The costume is rather simple, actually. You would need to straighten your hair, though."

"I have potions for that," Octavia murmured, evidently not too keen on this 'Alice' character as she continued to scan the pages of the story. "She's a bit annoying, isn't she?"

Hermione laughed, opting to not say what she really wanted to say. Alice and Octavia had a lot in common in the nuisance department, in Hermione's opinion.

"Oh!" Octavia exclaimed excitedly. "There's a rabbit!"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, frowning at her excited friend.

"I can go as the rabbit!" Octavia squealed, slamming the book shut. "I need a pocket watch. Do you have one?"

"Not on me, no." Hermione laughed. "We can transfigure one, though. You'll need a waist-coat too."

"No," Octavia shook her head. "I'm definitely not wearing a waist-coat. Just the pocket watch."

"The waist-coat is part of the costume, O."

"So?" Octavia shrugged. "They're ugly."

"Then choose another costume."

"Nah, I like this one." Octavia smiled, dropping onto her back on the bed. "Oh! I can be a naughty bunny."

"I don't know of many bunnies that are naughty. In fact, that particular rabbit is rather uptight."

"Who cares?" Octavia shrugged. "It'll be fun."

"What are you going to wear?" Hermione asked sceptically, eyeing her friend with trepidation. She did not like where this was going.

"Nothing worse than most of the other girls at school," Octavia grinned wickedly. "If father finds out, I'll just deny it."

"Yes, that has always proven to be a successful response in the past." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," Octavia huffed. "It's not fair. I had a costume and it was ruined. Probably because it was a muggle costume. So fuck them! I'll wear what I wanna wear."

Hermione sighed, dreading what was coming next. Dreading the inevitable. Hermione was undoubtedly about to be roped into assisting Octavia in creating a thoroughly indecent outfit for the ball. An outfit that was sure to provoke backlash from her father.

But Octavia didn't seem phased about that highly probable consequence. So Hermione rolled herself off of the bed and waited patiently for Octavia's demands. No matter how reluctant she was to assist her friend in the endeavour, Hermione would do so regardless.

"Give me bunny ears," Octavia ordered, sitting upright on the bed. " _Black_ bunny ears."

" _Mutare Aurem_ ," Hermione sighed, flicking her wand in Octavia's direction.

"Cool," Octavia grinned, her hands pulling at the long ears that sprouted from atop her wild curls.

Hermione raised her brows at Octavia's use of the muggle word before dismissing it.

"Now!" Octavia clapped her hands together. "What kind of stockings do you have?"

Hermione definitely did not like where this was headed.


	20. Chapter 20

Giggling relentlessly, Octavia rolled around on the bed as tears of joy escaped her sparkling hazel eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she just could not stop laughing at her peculiar friend. Luna, for some inexplicable reason, had decided to adorn a pumpkin costume for the Halloween Ball just hours away. The pretty, yet strange girl stood in the centre of the dormitory room, clad head-to-toe in the most repulsive shade of orange. She wore orange shoes, orange stockings, orange ribbons in her hair and an oversized round orange pumpkin dress. Even Luna's hair was victim to the atrocious colour that covered the girl.

Octavia, being the brilliant friend that she is, only laughed and giggled marvellously at Luna's appearance. Luna seemed to be the only female student at Hogwarts that had not gone down the common route of attractive and appealing costumes for the Ball. But that is what made Luna so unique and spectacular, in Octavia's opinion. So she did not protest in the slightest, and merely enjoyed the view instead.

"Do you like it?" Luna asked, her voice singing like a beautiful melody.

Octavia clutched her tummy as her giggles subsided, managing only a nod in response. Of course Octavia most certainly did not like the costume. Not even a little bit. It was an outright crime against fashion. But she lied all the same.

"What is your costume?" Luna smiled as she approached the bed.

Octavia raised her brows as she pointed to the black bunny ears atop her curls, giving Luna a _duh!_ expression.

"A rabbit?" Luna sang. "That's lovely."

Octavia rolled her eyes at an oblivious Luna. Honestly, the girl just baffled Octavia at times. O had spent the majority of the day in Luna's dormitory, sporting long bunny ears on her head the entire time. It was rather obvious what her costume would be. But knowing Luna, she probably just assumed that it was a merely a fashion statement or something, rather than a major hint to the nature of O's costume.

"Are you going to dance with Cedric at the Ball?" Luna asked, perching herself on the edge of the mattress.

"No," Octavia frowned, stretching out her limbs on the bed. "We can't, Luna. Obviously."

"That's a shame," Luna sighed.

"What about Theo? Are you going to dance with him? Is his costume a potato or something?" Octavia grinned, eager to forget about the inability to dance with her boyfriend at the Ball.

"I don't know what his costume is," Luna answered, her expression momentarily conveying a hint of dejection. "We haven't spoken since the party."

"Really?" Octavia frowned. "He hasn't said anything to you in a week?"

Luna smiled sadly as she shrugged in response. "He's too busy, I'm sure."

"Too busy to speak to you?" Octavia scoffed.

"It's alright," Luna said. "He mightn't want to talk to me. Not many people do."

Plump lips pressed firmly together as Octavia frowned, not liking how Luna was so obviously unaffected by peoples' aversion to her. But Luna had gone through many years at Hogwarts with most students avoiding her like the plague- much like Octavia had. Something they had in common. But Octavia was never accepting of this fact, always expressing shame and hurt when it was mentioned. Something that they definitely did not have in common.

"Ok," Octavia groaned, climbing off the bed as she chose to ignore the awkward statement Luna made. "Let's do our make-up."

They only had three hours to prepare for the Ball and Octavia planned on making good use of that time; she wanted Cedric to fall to his knees when he saw her. And she was sure that it was a likely reaction given the provocative nature of her costume.

She could hardly wait.

* * *

Assessing her reflection in the mirror, Hermione's lips twisted into a sweet smile at the sight of her costume. Initially she had considered wearing the gold gown as her costume for Belle from the fable, _Beauty and the Beast_. But gold and frumpy dresses were just not to her taste. Instead, she chose the modest and sweet dress that the character wore at the beginning of the Disney film; her favourite film during her childhood years.

There was no doubt in her mind that her fondness of the studious and intelligent character, Belle, was due to their shared interests. It was not the common 'damsel in distress' tale that was recrafted continuously throughout various Disney films. Belle, and the story she was created for, always inspired Hermione as a young girl. The lessons she learned were valuable and applicable to her own character traits. The heroin was not only saved by the hero, but she saved him in return. They were equals and displayed strength through their actions and bravery. It was for that reason that Hermione chose to attend the Halloween Ball as Belle.

The fact that the character, and the story's setting, was Italian had not even occurred to her. Why would it? It meant nothing. Merely a coincidence.

Fiddling with white apron straps, tied at the small of her back, Hermione gave her appearance a final once-over. The blue dress was relatively fitted, the apron with lace surroundings accentuating her waist. Beneath the dress, Hermione wore a white shirt, the sleeves stopping just passed her elbows. The usually wild curls that adorned her head were tamed and twisted back into a bun, a French plait framing her fresh-face. She looked just as she intended to; like a pleasant and modest village girl. But of course, Hermione was blind to the beauty that she was in that moment. Not that she cared about such things as beauty and appearance.

Satisfied with the outcome of her costume, Hermione turned and exited her bedroom, stepping down the stone staircase and into the shared common room. Her eyes widened slightly, stopping at the bottom step as she spotted the Head Boy leaning lazily against the wall, seemingly awaiting her arrival.

Blaise wore black slacks and black shirt to match. Nothing out of the ordinary in that, other than the fact that he wore no cloak or robes. What was surprising, however, was the rest of his costume. A brown mask covered the top part of his tanned and handsome face, the nails of his fingers now long and black. Claws. He was a beast.

Blaise grinned wolfishly as his eyes raked over her modest appearance, pushing himself from the wall and sauntering toward her.

"What are you doing, Zabini?" Hermione sighed in exasperation, in no mood for his blatant playful mood.

"I am greeting my date, Granger." Blaise smirked, extending his hand toward her as he approached the staircase. "Or would you prefer that I call you 'Belle'?"

Hermione blinked stupidly at him before a frown creased at her forehead, stepping down the last step.

"What are you playing at?" Hermione asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Nothing at present," Blaise shrugged casually, dropping his extended hand to his side. "Why? Would you like to play?"

Hermione didn't take the bait, opting to eye him cautiously before she hummed and stepped around him toward the portrait door. The footsteps sounding directly behind her alerted her to the fact that Blaise was following her out of the doorway as the portrait swung open, revealing the dimly lit corridor outside.

"I like your costume," Blaise drawled, the smirk evident in his tone as he followed her out into the corridor. "Although you do somewhat resemble a peasant."

"That's the point, Zabini." Hermione bit through clenched teeth, his mischievous presence irritating her greatly. "You would know that if you showed any interest in muggle cultures and read a book once in your life."

"I am very well read, thank you." Blaise retorted, falling into step beside her. "And if you paid any attention to my costume – which was difficult to acquire at such short notice, mind you – you would realise that I have done my research in the fables of your culture."

"What costume?" Hermione scoffed. "I merely assumed that you were dressed as yourself; a beast."

"What is a beast, without his Belle?" Blaise smirked.

"You'll find out, I suppose." Hermione snapped. "Because you have no Belle for this Ball."

"I disagree," Blaise grinned, stepping in front of her, causing Hermione to collide with his chest.

The muggle-born scowled as she righted herself, her narrowed eyes glowering directly up at his mischievous grin. Blaise slipped his hand into his pocket before removing a single long-stemmed rose and offering it to Hermione, her brows raising slightly.

"This is the flower of choice, no?" Blaise teased, brushing the petals over her chin. "We have until all the petals fall and wither for you to redeem your beast. Are you up to the challenge, Granger?"

Hermione hesitantly clasped her slender fingers around the prickly stem of the rose, her wary eyes locked into Blaise's dark gaze. No matter how hard she looked into his dark eyes, she could not ascertain the reason for his actions. But she tried her damned hardest to shove down the butterflies in her tummy and focus on her dislike for the man. A difficult task, considering just how much attention he had paid to her costume, thereby creating his own to match hers.

"Shall we?" Blaise grinned, his pearly white teeth contrasting brilliantly with his pink lips and flawlessly olive skin.

Hermione pursed her lips as he stepped to the side, placing his hand on the small of her back in an effort to guide her down the corridor. An effort that proved to be successful as she began to walk, her narrowed brown eyes fixed on the side of his face as he escorted her the Ball.

* * *

It came as no surprise that Draco Malfoy had chosen the costume that adorned him so fittingly. Octavia recalled in the days of their childhood that _Wolves, Witches and Wiccans_ was undoubtedly his favourite fairy tale of all time. He didn't necessarily discuss the dark tale often, but it was no secret that he respected the overall theme of the narrative. It was evident that he appreciated the racist sentiments of the tale; death to all muggles who meddle with magic.

Wiccans, as far as Octavia knew, were what muggles referred to themselves as, when they believed themselves to possess magical abilities millennia ago. The story predated the inclusion of muggle-borns into the Wizarding World, thereby causing the magical muggles to congregate in their own world. Due to their lack of knowledge of the power they possessed, these 'Wiccans' channelled their powers through use of nature, meeting in grasslands and thick forests. It was in these areas that the Wiccans sought connection to nature, and where the wolves would devour them. Of course, the wolves were actually wizards and witches of pureblood status in animagus form, taking it upon themselves to punish the muggles for touching what wasn't theirs to touch. Magic.

And so, Draco Malfoy's costume of choice came as no surprise to Octavia as she stepped down the marble staircase, the pureblood aristocrat leaning against the wall of the main foyer. His attire was entirely black from head-to-toe. His masquerade wolf mask covered the top half of his handsome face, his piercing grey eyes visible through the holes provided. With the contrast of the deep shade of black, his silvery eyes appeared even more sinister than ever. An observation that Octavia made from across the distance of the atrium, her heels clacking against the steps as she descended the staircase with Luna.

As though sensing her eyes on him, Draco slowly raised his gaze in her direction, their eyes connecting instantly. Octavia bit her lip nervously under his intense stare, Draco's body tensing at the sight he was met with. His fists clenched in his trouser pockets, his brows raising behind the concealment of the wolf mask, his eyes swarming with unadulterated lust.

Stormy grey eyes fixed on her cosmetics-painted face, her beauty only increased by use of the products, if possible. Her spectacular hazel eyes were accentuated by the black eyeliner that surrounded them, her full and luscious lips painted scarlet red. Tight blonde curls curtained her exceptionally pretty face, cascading passed her almost bare shoulders, causing his eyes to rake further down her petite form.

The wizard-born wore a black leotard, ending at the tip of her creamy white thighs. Straps connected the leotard to provocative black stockings, fit for an enchantress of the night. Slowly, his heated eyes raked their way back up her inviting attire, momentarily resting on the bow-tie clasped around her neck before trailing further up to her exceptionally adorable bunny ears that sat atop her luscious locks.

Needless to say, his trousers tightened instantly. And if he found it within himself to tear his attention away from the alluring squib, he would conclude that he was not the only man in the atrium to find himself captivated by her appearance.

"Fuck me," Theo muttered, his brows raised as stared at Octavia.

Vincent and Goyle turned their heads, their eyes widening as they spotted Octavia trotting down the staircase, a pumpkin Luna beside her chatting enthusiastically. Goyle choked on his silver flask of firewhiskey at the sight, surprised that the seemingly timid wizard-born possessed the courage to wear such attire.

Although her costume, while revealing and undeniably inappropriate for a lady of her standing, was hardly the most shocking costume of the bunch. Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass had departed the Slytherin common room not long ago in little more than lingerie. There had even been a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors clad in nothing but scraps of nature stuck to their bodies, claiming to be dressed as nymphs. All just excuses to reveal their inner harlots, really. Not that the male student body were complaining.

Draco certainly wasn't. His gaze hadn't left the sultry wizard-born once as she descended the stairs, his eyes following her attentively as she crossed the foyer and disappeared into the Great Hall to enjoy the festivities.

He felt the sudden urge to tear off his own shirt and wrap it around her, shielding her body from the greedy eyes of anyone who dared look at his squib.

His …

But she wasn't his, was she? He could have her if he so desired, that was for certain. His offer on her contract would be accepted instantly. And it had been. But he was still unsure as to why he proposed the offer in the first place. Was it because he truly wanted her as his wife? To have a squib in his family, providing him with tainted offspring? No. Surely not.

Then why had he made the offer? Why had he continued in his negotiations with her father, and made it his priority to alter his treatment of her. His kinder treatment that stemmed from the small heart within him that beat only for her. A disgusting thought.

But a true one, nonetheless.

* * *

Octavia tottered through the bustling Great Hall, winding and weaving her way through the vast student body that occupied the grandly decorated room. Her brother and best friend had surely outdone themselves in terms of decorations.

The night sky hovered above her, stars twinkling brightly despite being indoors. Orange and black coated the Great Hall, magical streamers winding and twisting themselves continuously into humorous shapes varying between dancing skeletons and singing pumpkins. Cauldrons littered the large circular tables scattered around the room, all of the black pots boiling and bubbling with various flavours of punch. Ghosts of the castle floated and soared high above them, singing renditions of old wicked tales, mostly about the Salam Witch Trials and the atrocities committed in those times. While the songs were hardly of a pleasant nature, they functioned to increase the spooky atmosphere that consumed the Great Hall.

Part of the grand space was sectioned off, serving as a haunted house of sorts, thunderous clouds booming above the small building. Screams echoed through the Great Hall, almost unheard over the music of the band playing on the altar. But the screams were coming from the haunted house, – more of cottage, actually – students running out of the front door with sickly pale faces, sprinting as fast as their legs could carry them. A cackling witch sat on a rickety chair on the porch of the small cottage, her glee at the fear surrounding her evident in her toothless grin. The witch, of course, was only an actress in costume, but the eeriness she emitted was undeniable. Even Octavia was slightly afraid of the woman, despite the massive distance between them.

A fortune-telling stand was set up at the opposite end of the Great Hall, Professor Trelawney manning the station. Mystic fog lingered around the mysterious woman, her bejewelled hands hovering above the crystal ball on the small table as she told the fortune of the student sitting across from her. Lavender Brown.

For reasons unknown to her, Octavia scowled the very moment her hazel eyes spotted the Gryffindor Slut. There was no particular reason for Octavia to dislike the girl, but she did all the same. Brown was currently dressed in the sluttiest costume Octavia had ever seen. She was essentially wearing no clothes at all, her bits and pieces covered only beige bandages, resembling a mummy. If mummies were skanky, Octavia mused with a smirk.

Resisting the urge to comment aloud on Lavender's costume, Octavia flicked her loose curls over her shoulder snootily and continued to follow Luna through the crowds of students. It took them little over five minutes to locate Hermione, at the edge of the altar, bickering with a tanned man in the costume of a beast.

Ignoring the suggestive glances she was subject to by nearby male students, Octavia focused her gaze on the pair by the altar, her eyes widening as she realised the identity of the beast. Her brother.

It was not particularly unusual for the Head Boy and Girl to be bickering or seen together at an event they co-planned. But it was certainly unusual for Blaise to be standing so impossibly close to an annoyed Hermione, his claws raking slowly down her waist. Hermione whacked Blaise's hand from her waist, the latter grinning widely as he spoke inaudible words, seemingly teasing the muggle-born beauty.

Octavia's eyes narrowed as Blaise appeared to be flirting with her friend, O's pace increasing in speed as she approached them, Luna walking dreamily beside her.

A grunt escaped Octavia as she collided with a hard body in her pursuit, stumbling backwards slightly as she looked up at the man she bumped into.

"Oh," Octavia blushed as she gazed up at Cedric. "Sorry, Professor."

Cedric didn't seem to hear her apology, his wide eyes staring stupidly at her costume as though someone had _confunded_ him.

"Ms Zabini," Professor McGonagall greeted in a clipped tone, Octavia realising that she was surrounded by various faculty members. All of whom were eyeing her costume with blatant surprise, and some, in disapproval.

"Professor," Octavia smiled, inclining her head to the stern-looking woman as Cedric continued to gape obviously at her revealing costume.

"A rabbit?" McGonagall asked with a quirked brow. "From which tale?"

"Uh," Octavia blushed, crossing her arms over her chest in a feeble attempt to shield her cleavage. "Alice in Wonderland, ma'am."

"I see," McGonagall nodded, her wrinkly eyes scanning the costume with distaste. "I do not recall Mr. Rabbit wearing such exposing attire."

Biting her lip, Octavia willed the fierce blush to disappear from her face, her shameful gaze averting to the floor.

"Enjoy your night, Ms Zabini." Cedric clipped, his tone cool as he pulled out of his daze, returning his attention to his colleagues.

"Yes, Professor." Octavia nodded. "You too."

With that, Octavia scurried off toward Hermione and Blaise by the altar, Luna strolling leisurely behind her as her wide eyes gazed dreamily around the Great Hall. Octavia, on the other hand, couldn't care less about the impressive decorations anymore. Her only thought in that moment, was a powerful wish for the ground to swallow her up. The utter mortification of Professor McGonagall's comment on her costume caused an incessant cloud of humiliation to swarm around her.

"O!" Hermione greeted happily, evidently eager to distract Blaise from teasing her. "Wow, your costume is … lovely."

"Thanks," Octavia grumbled, coming to a stop as she approached them.

Blaise turned at the mention of his sister, prepared to greet – or mock – her before he was momentarily frozen in place by the shock of her appearance.

"What the _fuck_ are you wearing?" Blaise spat, his dark eyes alighting with rage.

"I'm … I'm a bunny," Octavia frowned, pouting slightly as she pulled at her bunny ears.

"You look like a whore." Blaise growled, his upper lip curling in distaste. "What happened to dressing as a muggle princess?"

"My gown was ruined," Octavia shrugged meekly, her eyes trained on the stone ground beneath her.

"So your first reaction was to dress in a provocative manner?" Blaise hissed, grabbing her arm and steering her away from Luna and Hermione.

Octavia scowled as Blaise dragged her through the crowd, students parting like a river around a rock to allow them passage. Likely due to the expression of murderous outrage on Blaise's normally composed face. Octavia huffed as he abruptly let go of her arm once arriving at the wall, her brother glowering down at her with complete fury.

"You best hope that father does not catch wind of your … _'costume'_." Blaise growled, Octavia looking up at him with shame in her hazel eyes. "Do you make it your priority to bring dishonour to our family?"

"It's just a costume," Octavia mumbled, her feet shuffling on the ground nervously as another approached them.

A wolf. Fucking Draco Malfoy, looking equally as unhappy as her brother. Great.

Just great.

Octavia groaned, leaning back against the wall as she awaited further berating from her brother and his comrade. The night wasn't going as she had expected. But Hermione had warned her about this. Octavia really should have listened.

"Drop it, ok?" Octavia murmured, her worried eyes flicking between her furious brother and the approaching wolf.

Blaise followed her gaze to see Draco nearing them, his jaw clenched tightly and grey eyes stormy with anger.

"What did you expect, O?" Blaise snapped, returning his gaze to his frowning sister. "You arrive in a scrap of cloth, and think that there would be no consequences?"

"It's just a fucking costume, Blaise!" Octavia whined, stomping her foot like a child.

Draco's jaw clenched even tighter as he stopped beside Blaise, eyeing Octavia coldly.

"Costume or no costume, you are the Zabini heiress," Draco growled threateningly. "You would do well to conduct yourself accordingly."

"It's not even bad if you look at what the other girls are wearing," Octavia scowled.

"Do the 'other girls' belong to the Zabini family?" Blaise asked coolly.

"No," Octavia mumbled, shuffling her feet nervously.

Draco untied the front of his black cloak, removing the clothing gracefully as he stared coldly at the wizard-born.

"Ow," Octavia whined as Draco grabbed her arm harshly, yanking her toward him.

A huffy scowl graced her face as Draco set to draping the cloak over her shoulders, tying it securely at her collarbone, his fierce stare preventing her from objecting. Her pleading gaze moved to her brother's unyielding stare, Blaise raising his chin slightly as he made no move to stop Draco in covering O's body.

"Perhaps in future you will think twice before frolicking around like some cheap whore," Draco growled before stepping away from her, the anger in his eyes ensuring that she didn't display defiance.

"Fine," Octavia snapped, raising her hands in the air to emphasise the current covered-up state of her body. "Can I go now?"

Blaise stepped to the side, allowing his sister passage to flee. An opportunity she took without a moment's hesitance.

Draco, now in only a shirt and slacks, watched with stormy eyes as she scurried away, her slender legs still visible as the hem of the cloak brushed against her mid-thigh. He wasn't exactly averse to seeing her in provocative attire, but he was certainly enraged at the thought of others seeing her in a such away. His anger dissipated quite abruptly, however, lust and affection soaring powerfully within him at the sight of her clad in his clothing.

It was certainly a good look for her.


	21. Chapter 21

"Stop fiddling with it, O," Hermione complained, evidently annoyed with her sulking friend. "Just leave it alone."

Octavia huffed, ceasing her somewhat successful attempts at loosening the tied cloak around her shoulders, the material now parted and revealing the majority of her costume. Her moody expression swiftly transformed into a triumphant one as she stared down at her now-visible leotard and cleavage. But she kept the cloak on, compromising in shielding her shoulders and the bottom of her bum that peaked out of the exceptionally short body suit. It was kind of annoying, however, that the cloak shielded her bottom, as it shielded her little bunny tail too. It was one of her favourite parts of her costume, so it was definitely rather irritating to have it covered up.

"Do you think Blaise will notice?" Octavia mused, eyeing her costume with slight concern.

"Um, yes." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh well," Octavia shrugged, turning around to scan the vast crowd for any signs of her brother and the other member of the fun-aurors.

Blaise and Draco stood where she had left them, by the wall, her brother with his back to her. Draco, however, faced her direction, but his eyes were not on her for once. His eyes were on their newly acquired companion, Theodore Nott. Whilst it seemed like they were discussing something private, Theo looking rather shady as he frequently glanced around him, Draco's hardened eyes still possessed a trace of his earlier anger. Octavia sighed, knowing full well that he would notice the changes she made to his cloak and likely confront her over it. And by 'confront' she meant stuff her into the Haunted House and lock the door as punishment.

A ghastly punishment that would be.

Thunder and lightning boomed above the sinister house within the Great Hall, a never ending stream of screams ripping through the area. A constant issue of students entered the Haunted House, only to run out in terror moments after. Octavia's curiosity had certainly peaked, but she was much too cowardly to approach the ominous building. It was too spooky for her liking. Although Octavia could not deny the sheer creativity in the construction of the Haunted House. It was proving to be a big hit with the students in the Great Hall, even if the majority did run out in fear moments after entering.

Returning her gaze to the Slytherin Trio by the wall, Octavia watched suspiciously as Draco discreetly handed a small vial of green potion to Theo. The latter quickly stuffed the vial into his pocket before glancing around shadily. His brown eyes met her gaze, Theo giving her a toothy grin before winking at the wizard-born. A frown creased her forehead as his lips moved, evidently speaking quietly to his companions while maintaining their gaze. As if on cue, Draco and Blaise turned their stares in her direction, her hazel eyes connecting with silvery orbs, the glint in his eyes dangerous.

Clearing her throat, Octavia swiftly turned her back on the Trio, realising exactly what they were up to and the nature of the substance in the small vial now safely tucked away in Theo's pocket. She was absolutely certain that the container held Blissful Brew, a euphoria-inducing substance. The recreational potion possessed addictive properties, and served as a common potion to spike drinks with and take at parties. There was no doubt in her mind that it was the very same potion she suspected to have been slipped into the drinks at the Slug Club dinner, thereby inebriating every single guest beyond appropriate standards.

In saying that, Octavia wasn't exactly averse to the use of the potion. She had enjoyed the sensations it stirred within her – minus the nostalgic affections for Draco, of course. But the elated feeling that it caused was pleasant, to say the least. She was in no way prepared to consume the potion randomly throughout the day to increase her constant contentment, but what was the harm in having a little at the Halloween Ball?

So Octavia kept her mouth shut about what she saw, opting to not enlighten the friends that stood around her chatting merrily. Instead, she turned her head frequently, glancing over her shoulder to the Slytherin Trio, all three of them headed straight toward the central table with a large supply of poppy punch. A sly smirk graced her full lips as her gaze followed the three purebloods, Draco turning his head slightly and meeting her eyes once more. For three of the slipperiest snakes at Hogwarts, Octavia found them to be much too obvious in their sneaky activities.

Her attention was yanked back to her friends as Harry and Ginny joined them by the altar, the red-head's costume causing Hermione to choke on her goblet of punch. Ginny stood beside Harry, wearing a scarlet red cloak that offered practically no concealment to the suggestive costume that stuck to her curvaceous figure. The costume even had Octavia in a slight state of shock.

Ginny's upper body was shielded only by the cloak and an impossibly tight corset of the same shade of scarlet red. Matching the corset that had her cleavage spilling over, Ginny adorned a tight leather skirt that barely covered her hoo-ha. Octavia almost scoffed, for Ginny was a pureblood and hardly received the same reception to her costume. It was incredibly unfair.

"So, what's this I heard about you and Zabini?" Harry asked almost the moment he approached the girls, his disapproving stare on Hermione.

"What did you hear?" Hermione responded with indifference.

"Seamus told us that Dean said that Padma saw you and Blaise Zabini coming to the Ball together," Ginny explained quickly.

Hermione blinked at Ginny before frowning in confusion. "What?"

"She said," Octavia sighed, "that Seamus told them that Dean said that Padma saw you and Blaise come to the Ball together."

Hermione turned her confused brown eyes to Octavia before laughing loudly.

"If only you memorised your studies with such accuracy," Hermione laughed, Octavia grinning in response.

"Don't change the subject, 'Mione." Harry said sternly. "Did you come to the Ball with him?"

"Yes." Hermione snipped, raising her chin defiantly. "Does it matter?"

Octavia scoffed in perfect unison with Harry, Hermione bristling instantly.

"Of course it fucking matters," Harry hissed. "He's a Slytherin, 'Mione."

"Oi!" Octavia snapped, whacking Harry on the arm as he gave her a sheepish look. "There's nothing wrong with being a Slytherin."

"You know what I mean," Harry mumbled.

"Obviously I don't." Octavia scowled.

"Well you can't be alright with this!" Harry exclaimed, gesturing his hands toward an infuriated Hermione. "You know what your brother is like, and he's only looking to make 'Mione another notch on his wand."

"Ew," Octavia shivered, her mind suddenly flooded with images.

"I don't care what any of you think," Hermione said confidently. "I came here with Blaise as my date and that's that."

"You don't care what _I_ think?" Octavia frowned, eyeing her friend with a mixture of indignation and hurt. "You come to the Ball with my brother and don't care what I have to say about it?"

"That's not what I meant," Hermione answered softly, her expression of anger dimming.

"That's what you said, though." Octavia countered, Hermione's gaze flickering between O and something behind her.

"We'll talk about it later," Hermione whispered, her flickering gaze alerting O of the approaching company.

"You're damn right we will," Octavia grumbled, Harry nodding firmly in agreement.

Presumably finished with their mission of spiking the punch, the Slytherin Trio approached the group by the alter, Hermione smiling tightly as Blaise handed her a fresh goblet of punch. Punch that undoubtedly contained traces of the Blissful Brew. Harry tensed at the arrival of the Slytherins he detested, placing his hand in Ginny's before uttering terse goodbyes and disappearing into the crowd.

Biting her bottom lip, Octavia watched as Hermione held the new goblet of punch, bringing it up to her lips and taking a generous sip, Blaise smirking as she did so. She said nothing, however. It wasn't necessarily a dangerous drug, so there was no harm done in Octavia's mind. It would only serve to loosen her muggle-born friend up a little and bring out her fun side.

A pale hand outstretched in front of her, Draco handing her a goblet of the same punch as he stood beside her. Their gaze connected with one another, his eyes swarming with interest, awaiting her choice. They both knew that Octavia was aware that the punch was spiked, so he waited patiently for her to decide on whether to consume it or not.

The corners of his pink lips twitched as she snatched the goblet from his hand and set to drinking it in generous gulps, Draco smirking as he watched her.

They were in for a fun night, that was for sure.

* * *

A flirtatious smile graced her lips as her eyes connected with Cedric's, the Professor sneaking a smile in return. Although Octavia couldn't help but sense that his smile was somewhat forced. Doubt twisted at her insides as he turned his back on her and continued to converse with his colleagues at the circular table.

Had she done something to upset him? She hadn't thought so. But his smile was not like the ones he usually offered her. It wasn't sweet or adoring. It was definitely forced. Fake.

Perhaps he was displeased by the nature of her costume? He hadn't shown much appreciation for the bunny attire when she bumped into him, but she had merely assumed that he was pretending, due to the presence of other faculty members. Maybe she was wrong.

Dismissing the thought, Octavia decided that she would address the issue with him later in his quarters. Where she would sneak into and surprise him with the offering of her body. An offer she hoped he accepted and ravished. Time would tell. But for now, she would allow herself a fun night with her friends.

A giggle escaped her scarlet lips as Ron twirled her relentlessly around the dancefloor, the atmosphere around them simply exhilarating. It was obvious to Octavia that the majority of students had unknowingly done what she had; drank the spiked punch. For everyone seemed to be in high spirits, laughing and dancing the night away merrily.

Blaise and Hermione danced nearby, the muggle-born laughing wonderfully as he picked her up and spun her around. Luna, in great big pumpkin costume, was currently in a slow dance with Theo – despite the fast pace of the song that boomed around them – and chattered over the music enthusiastically. Theo seemed to be enjoying whatever Luna was saying, a wide grin spreading across his face as he stared down at the strange girl with glimmers of affection in his eyes.

It was in that moment that Octavia realised why he had been keeping his distance from Lovely Luna. He obviously felt something for the girl, harbouring romantic feelings within him. Feelings that could never be acted on, due to his pureblood status and marriage arrangements with one of the Greengrass girls. But in his current joyous state, he allowed himself a little forbidden indulgence as he danced and chatted with the girl he desired but could never have.

They were the perfect example of why Octavia disapproved of Hermione and Blaise attending the Ball together. Why act on your feelings if nothing could ever come from it? Only pain and anger could come from indulging in your forbidden desires. It wasn't fair on Luna or Hermione.

In saying that, the same could be argued about Cedric and Octavia's relationship. It was denied by her father, the controller of her contract. But at least she had a fighting chance with Cedric. He was still a pureblood, belonging to their elite society. So Octavia allowed herself the chance to hope, for there was hope to be had. Unfortunately, Hermione and Luna had no hope with their respective purebloods. It was not to be, nor would it ever.

A lost cause.

Suddenly, Octavia was filled with a surge of intense dislike as Ron spun her around, causing her to now face a scene she would rather not have witnessed.

Draco reclined against the nearby wall, Lavender Brown's chest pressed against his as she gazed up at him, evidently cooing sickly sweet words that appeared to have no effect on him. The aristocratic wolf stared down at the curly haired Gryffindor, his cold eyes remaining impassive and hard as her hands gripped onto his black shirt. It was obvious that she was attempting to seduce him, or even fawn over him like the shameless girl she was. Octavia felt a sudden need to separate them, her narrowed hazel eyes glaring daggers at the back of Lavender's head.

Hands in his pockets, Draco appeared to not respond to Lavender's advances, the coldness of his stare not wavering the girl in the slightest. That was the moment that Octavia decided to intervene. And she was damned if she knew why. All she knew was that she loathed Lavender with a burning passion.

"Excuse me," Octavia mumbled, Ron releasing his hold on her as she stalked off the dance floor in the direction of the wolf and slutty mummy.

As if sensing her nearing proximity, Draco's gaze left Lavender's and met Octavia's furious eyes instead, the wizard-born wearing a scowl as she stormed toward them. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn a smirk fleetingly graced Draco's soft lips. Not that she cared, or anything.

"Draco!" Octavia snapped, coming to a stop right behind the flirting Gryffindor that appeared to be glued to the wolf. "I need to talk to you."

Draco smirked as she pushed a livid Lavender from his body, waving his hand in dismissal at the Gryffindor girl. Draco didn't even spare Lavender a glance, his eyes remaining on Octavia as the wizard-born shot Lavender a smug look. But Lavender didn't move, instead standing still as she glowered at Octavia.

"Run along," Octavia drawled, her hands shooing the outraged girl away.

"And people think that you are sweet," Draco smirked, eyeing Octavia intently.

Octavia _humphed_ as she watched Lavender stomp off before turning her gaze to the smirking pureblood still reclining against the wall.

"I am sweet," Octavia frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"As sweet as an espresso," Draco drawled, his smirk still in place.

"Whatever," Octavia shrugged, scowling at the man before her.

"What can I do for you?" Draco asked, inspecting his nails casually.

"Huh?"

"You said that you needed to speak with me," Draco drawled, placing his hand back into his pocket.

"Oh … right." Octavia nodded, her mind whirling.

Did she need to speak with him? No. But why had she approached if she did not require a word with him? Why had she interrupted his encounter with Lavender?

She had no fucking idea.

All she knew was that she felt much better now that Lavender was nowhere him. How odd.

Perhaps her hatred for the girl was just that strong? She didn't want the girl to be happy? Possibly …

"So?" Draco prompted, eyeing Octavia interestedly as she frowned and bit her lip, evidently lost in thought.

"Oh," Octavia shook her head, coming out of her daze. "Do you have any more of that … punch?"

Draco quirked his brow, the gesture hidden by the mask he wore, as his silvery eyes bore into her, assessing her intently.

"One more." Draco clipped, pushing himself from the wall and grabbing a goblet from the nearby table.

Octavia watched as he scooped out punch from the bubbling and hissing cauldron, pouring the liquid into the goblet before handing it to her.

"Thanks." Octavia muttered, clasping her fingers around the ruby-encrusted goblet.

"That is the last one you shall have tonight," Draco ordered, his silvery eyes demanding agreeance. "Should you want another drink, you will acquire it from the cauldrons by the entrance."

Octavia nodded, bringing the rim of the goblet to her lips before sipping slightly. She really wanted to down the entire contents of the container, but it had to last her. If Draco caught her drinking from the now off-limit cauldrons, there would be hell to pay.

The drink, however, was quickly devoured, Draco placing his index finger at the base of the goblet and tilting it so that she was forced to drink faster. She gulped greedily, Draco essentially forcing the sweet substance down her throat as he stared coolly at her, Octavia coughing slightly as she finished the drink.

Wiping the back of her hand against her damp lips, Octavia watched as Draco turned and placed the empty goblet on the table before turning back to face her, his hand extended.

"What?" Octavia frowned, eyeing his opened hand curiously.

"We are going to dance," Draco declared, his tone commanding.

"I don't wanna," Octavia scowled, meeting his hardened eyes.

Despite their shared pleasantries that evening, Octavia still despised the man to her core and detested the prospect of dancing with him.

"I did not ask." Draco growled, snatching her hand and hauling her over to the dancefloor.

Octavia grunted as he stopped, yanking her chest against his and placing his free hand on the small of her back. She should have known that the punch would come at a price.

Despite her evident reluctance, Octavia heaved a sigh and placed her free hand on his shoulder, allowing him to lead her in a slow dance, most nearby students gaping at the odd pair.

It was no secret that Draco hated and tormented the wizard-born throughout their schooling years at Hogwarts, making it his business to unleash wrath onto the poor girl. So to see them dancing with one another was certainly an odd sight indeed. But those who found it strange, were not purebloods belonging to their society.

In their society, regardless of their negative sentiments toward each other, Draco and Octavia sharing a dance was not all that strange. They had danced with one another countless times throughout the years at the pureblood functions. It was expected, given the strong alliance between their two powerful families. It was the proper thing to do.

And if Octavia were to deny him this dance, her father would be informed and the consequences would be dire. It may just be the last straw, sending her to Beauxbatons for the remainder of her final year.

So she allowed him to spin her around before pulling her against his body once more, swaying her perfectly in tune with the slow beat of the music. His thumb brushed against the small of her back as they danced, his heated grey eyes staring down at her as she gazed intently at the unbuttoned top part of his black shirt. She had to dance with him, yes. But she in no way was obligated to look at him. So she didn't, choosing to relish in her little show of defiance instead.

"What happened to your original costume?" Draco asked, his tone conversational.

"Millicent tore it to shreds," Octavia scowled, her narrowed eyes on the pale and smooth skin in front of her.

Draco nodded once, having already suspected that to be the case. But now, as he was conveying a cordial attitude with the wizard-born in front of the entire school, he was certain that no further acts of torment would befall her. Others only bullied her when he did. The dance he was currently sharing with Octavia would ensure that she was safe from the wrath of others, including Millicent.

"What's the deal with you and Lavender?" Octavia asked, her eyes darkening as the girl's name spat from her tongue.

"I fuck her sometimes," Draco responded casually, staring down at the scowling wizard-born intently. He resisted the urge to grin at her expression, seeing the jealousy in her eyes. Jealousy that she would no doubt deny, even to herself.

"Are you going to bring her to the Banquet?" Octavia asked, referring to the Christmas pureblood event that was fast approaching. Much too fast in Octavia's opinion; where the first quarter of the school year had gone, she had no clue!

"Most certainly not," Draco drawled, his tone sharp.

"You just seem to be spending a lot of time with her," Octavia continued, her gaze still glued to his chest.

"The girl is a leech," Draco said, smirking as Octavia nodded, the darkness in her eyes fading. "I hear that you are bringing a guest to the Banquet."

Octavia thinned her lips before nodding, unsure as to whether he was referring to Ninny or Cedric. So she waited for him to continue, opting not to clarify. It was very unlikely that he knew of her relationship with Cedric, and she had yet to ask her father if she could bring the Professor as a date. But she had asked if Hermione could come. A request that her father was still considering, hence her determination to be on her best behaviour.

After what seemed like an eternity, the song ended and Octavia untangled herself from Draco instantly. Curtseying, Octavia bowed her head low, performing the expected gesture at the end of the dance. Draco inclined his head marginally, completing his own part of the formal performance, allowing her the escape she evidently desired.

But he only slightly allowed her escape, falling into step behind her as she weaved her way through the dancefloor in pursuit of her friends. Coincidently, his friends also. For Granger and Loony Lovegood were still dancing with Blaise and Theo, allowing Draco the opportunity to remain in O's company for the time being.

An opportunity that he would not pass up. Particularly not when she displayed jealous tendencies in his favour. And especially not when Professor Dickory continued to glance in Octavia's direction throughout the night.

Draco felt the urge to mark his territory given the stares she was subject to from the Professor.

* * *

Eyeing the goblet enviously, Octavia puckered her lips as she watched Hermione drink the spiked punch that Blaise had just offered her. But Draco stood with them, his grey eyes fixed on Octavia's sulky expression, ensuring that she did not participate in drinking more of the contaminated punch. It was rather annoying, to be honest. Although she was definitely feeling the effects of the punch already consumed, a tipsy glee embracing her, only dimmed by the denial of more of the beverage.

Narrowed hazel eyes flickered between Blaise and Ninny as the _Stronzo_ snaked his arm around the muggle-born's waist. It didn't sit right with Octavia. But the _'we'll talk later'_ look she received from Hermione prevented her from mentioning her evident displeased response to their blossoming relationship. A relationship that faced an inevitable end, drenched in heartache and despair.

However, Octavia's anger surged powerfully as Blaise whispered in Ninny's ear, the latter blushing slightly.

Octavia spat, "Sei disgustoso." [You're disgusting] "Stai solo andando a farle del male, quindi perché preoccuparsi?" [You're only going to hurt her, so why bother?]

Hermione, not fluent in Italian, glanced between the Zabini twins with confusion and concern. Draco and Theo, however, appeared to know exactly what was said by the vexed little wizard-born.

"Fatti gli affari tuoi, sorella, [Mind your own business, sis.]" The Italian accent flowed from his lips perfectly. "A meno che non si desidera padre sapere sul vostro indiscrezioni." [Unless you want father to know about your little indiscretions.]

Octavia raised her chin defiantly, her livid hazel eyes fixed on her brother's daring stare. "Lei è il mio amico, quindi è la mia attività," Octavia hissed. [She is my friend, so it is my business.]

"Ha fatto la sua scelta, Octavia," Draco drawled. [She made her own choice, Octavia.]

"Serpenti egoistici," Octavia mumbled, Draco's eyes flashing instantly. [Selfish snakes.]

"E non sei egoista?" [And you are not selfish?] Blaise hissed, his eyes darkening. "Ipocrisia non è lusinghiero, monello." [Hypocrisy is not flattering, brat.]

Octavia's eyes widened at what he called her, her fists clenching at her sides as anger swarmed around her violently. How dare he call her a brat?

Her lips parted, a string of profanities ready to protrude from her mouth, coated in thick venom, but Draco silenced her with one word.

"Enough," Draco growled, his stormy grey eyes boring down at an enraged Octavia.

Instantly her mouth snapped shut, her livid eyes fixed on her stony faced brother.

Hermione handed Blaise her goblet, the latter taking it without tearing his darkened eyes from his sister.

"Come on," Hermione said quietly, taking O's hand and steering her away from the group, Luna following without a word.

Octavia was glad for the escape, finding that it was much easier to calm herself without her brother in close proximity. But her relief was short-lived, of course.

For Hermione was leading her directly towards the Haunted House, the Slytherin Trio following the girls in thick silence.

* * *

Sweat began to develop in her moist palms, her hands clenching and unclenching into fists repeatedly as her heart rate increased. Wide hazel eyes, filled with trepidation, gazed fearfully at the Haunted House before her, Octavia rooted to the spot. How she had found herself in this position was simply beyond her. Perhaps it was the spiked punch that she had indulged herself in throughout the night, or maybe it was Hermione's insistence. Whatever the case, Octavia wanted nothing more than back out, run and never look back.

Alas, Hermione was there to ruin her brewing plan instantly.

"Come on," Ninny coaxed, pushing a reluctant O onto the brown lawn of the Haunted House.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Octavia nodded as she attempted to prepare herself, Ninny guiding her toward the rotted door of the House. She watched, biting her lip, as Hermione opened the door with a haunting creak and stepped over the threshold, disappearing from her sight instantly. How odd.

Octavia groaned, quickly following her friend so as not to lose her, Luna quickly entering behind her.

And then she saw nothing. Only darkness.

* * *

Hermione rolled her eyes as Blaise appeared in the room she previously occupied alone. She was aware of the magical nature of the Haunted House, having co-constructed it with the Head Boy, but she was hoping for Octavia or Luna to join her in the room she was taken to. For the person that joined you in the first room would serve as your partner in the remainder of the journey. Of course, her wish was not granted, and Blaise appeared directly beside her, a devious grin gracing his handsome features.

"Shall we?" Blaise grinned, Hermione sighing in response.

The room they occupied was entirely white; so white that the walls and floors almost glowed. It reminded Hermione of horror movies she had watched in the muggle world. The setting somewhat resembled an incredibly eerie mental asylum of sorts, the spooky cleanliness of the room causing shivers to run down her spine. Blaise, however, appeared perfectly at ease as he strolled through the large room, a single door at the other end.

The door that faced them down the long room was solid metal, reminding Hermione of the doors to patients' cells in the movies she had watched. But they could not merely open the door and step into the next room that the House would take them to. They had to locate the key first.

As they walked further through the white room, both Beast and Belle remained completely silent, only their footsteps echoing around them. Each step they took in the direction of the door, only appeared to increase the distance between them and the desired exit. An anticipated hurdle, as they both created the rooms of the labyrinth.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking in silence, the white floor beneath them began to shake. Blaise took a side-step toward Hermione, his arm snaking around her waist in order to assist her in maintaining balance from the vibrating floor, tiles disintegrating before their very eyes. As expected.

A proud smile graced Hermione's pink lips as the ground before them caved in on itself, transforming into a bubbling pit of limbs and blood. Of course it was all fake, the blood purchased and delivered from a Transylvanian Halloween shop. But the effect was powerful all the same. The limbs were merely a variety of old keys transfigured into severed body parts, but they had to locate the precise one in the space of fifteen minutes, or be ejected from the Haunted House.

And the only way to do that, was to jump into the bloody pit before them.

In that moment, Hermione realised her relief that Octavia had no joined her in the room, for the wizard-born could not swim. A fact that would cost them the challenge. For both partners had to dive into the pit and retrieve the appropriate limb before swimming out and escaping the pool of brewing body parts. All before the pit sank deeper into the ground and carried the students through the sewers of the House and spewing them out into the castle grounds.

The only problem was, they had to search for all of the body parts of themselves, rebuilding their physiques before it transformed into the two keys required to open the door. All in the space of fifteen minutes.

"Ready, little lioness?" Blaise smirked.

"Of course." Hermione snipped, eyeing the bubbling bloody pit with indifference. "The question is; are you?"

* * *

Luna smiled dreamily as she gazed around the colourful room, Theodore standing casually beside her. They were entirely surrounded by a vast amount of orange and black balloons, a black sludgy liquid contained within them as they floated in the air at eye-level. Nearly-Headless-Nick hovered in front of them, several metres away, his head lolling off his shoulders as attempted to appear spooky. To anyone who was not familiar with the ghost, he would definitely achieve his spookiness. But to Luna and Theo, it did not have the desired effect.

"In this room, you will face your inner beasts." Nearly Headless Nick said, his eerie tone echoing throughout the room. "You are surrounded by orange and black balloons, all of which will test you during the game. In order to advance onto the next room, you must work together. But there will be temptations along the way."

Luna blinked absentmindedly at the ghost, no doubt in her mind that Theo would work with her in the game. The Slytherin stood close beside her, their arms almost touching as they waited for the ghost to continue in his haunting speech.

"Each balloon is filled with a thick potion. The orange balloons contain a mixture of various brews, inducing an honest and giddy reaction from those contaminated. If you are infected by the potions, you will find yourself unable to resist in divulging your secrets to your partner."

The silvery presence hovered before them, his spooky voice carrying throughout the room as the partners gazed patiently at him, unaffected by the eerie atmosphere he was attempting to create.

"The potions from the black balloons will leave you blind and deaf, thereby causing the affected to rely on their partner throughout the game. One balloon in this room holds the ticket required to advance you onto the next room, but exercise caution my dear mortals. For some balloons carry temptations- if you take these temptations, you and your partner will be banished from the House, and denied further entry for the remainder of the festivities."

Luna smiled gently, her excitement for the game increased as she gazed up at Theo with sparkly blue eyes. The Slytherin winked down at her, his mischievous eyes daring her to place her trust in him for the game. But would that trust be tested?

Luna was soon to find out.

* * *

Octavia was not in the foyer of the house, nor could she see the door she had just entered through. So she walked further into the darkness, her adjusting eyes attempting to locate another door or any sign of her friends.

But she appeared to be alone.

"Ninny?" Octavia whispered, the fear coating her voice thickly. "Luna?"

No response.

Only creepy creaks sounded out around her, an eerie moan causing Octavia to freeze. The moan sounded out again, resembling the sound of a pained soul in the afterlife, their protests echoing through to the land of the living. It was not a pleasant sound in the slightest.

Chills shivered up and down Octavia's spine as the sound came again, but closer. Approaching. Nearing. In the darkness.

All that O could hear in the breaks between the moans was her own rapid breathing and wild heartbeat. No good ever came of entering a Haunted House, so why she had completely baffled her.

The room was much too dark for Octavia to escape, her surroundings coated in the deepest shade of black known to the world. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face, let alone find an exit. There was no chance of her turning around and retracing her steps back to the door she entered through with Ninny and Luna. There was no way she could take a step forward, possibly moving closer to the other door which would lead to her departure from the creepy room. So Octavia stood, rooted to the spot by fear, her body beginning to tremble as anxiety tingled throughout her.

A creak in the floorboards sounded out behind her, a terrified Octavia whipping around to stare blindly into the darkness. As the wretched moan echoed around her once more, her entire body tensed with fear, her heart beating a mile a minute against her ribcage. If she could see in that moment, there was no doubt that the violent pounding of her heart would be visible against her chest.

Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as her breathing picked up in pace, surrounded by nothing, yet something. Another creak was heard, goosebumps plaguing her smooth skin as anxiety trickled through her body, feeling the sudden urge to cower on the floor.

"Ninny?" Octavia whispered, feeling a dark presence around her.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her body against a solid chest as she screamed. But her scream was short-lived, ending the very moment that the familiar aroma invaded her senses. Peppermint.

"Relax," Draco's icy voice sliced through the air, Octavia breathing a sigh of relief as her panic subdued.

Octavia rested her forehead against his chest as she calmed her breathing, her hands gripping onto his expensive black shirt tightly. As though afraid to let go and face the darkness alone again.

The muscular arm left her body, his hand clasping around her wrist instead. But it wasn't enough for Octavia. Her free hand gripped the hand that held onto her as Draco began to walk slowly, Octavia scuffling beside him, holding onto him for dear life. All sense of hatred for the man was gone from her soul in that moment, seeking only safety and protection from his comforting presence. Something that she never thought would happen in a million years.

Yet there she was, being led to safety by her primary tormentor, Draco's slow and steady pace allowing her to follow without incident.

"Where's Ninny?" Octavia asked shakily, her iron grip on his hand not relenting in the slightest. "We came in here together."

"You stepped through an enchanted door," Draco responded coldly, Octavia entirely unaware that he took pleasure in her need for him in that moment. "It allows entrance to different rooms of the house for each person."

"Oh," Octavia breathed, her heels scraping against the floor as she kept his pace. "Why are we the only ones in here?"

"Coincidence," Draco lied effortlessly.

Draco charmed the door prior to stepping over the threshold, ensuring that he was taken to the same room as Octavia. Partly due to the desire to be in her presence, but also because he knew that she would be frightened on her own.

"If we find the exit, we will be taken to the others," Draco explained.

"What do you mean _if_?" Octavia frowned. "Can't you use a locator spell or something?"

"That would be cheating," Draco drawled, his hand gripped firmly onto her slender wrist.

"So? I'm ok with cheating."

"The house will force our exit should we cheat."

"Oh." Octavia sighed before pouting, Draco leading her further into the darkness.

But she wasn't concerned. Draco would find the exit; she was sure of it. Her only task was to be guided, so that is what she allowed.


	22. Chapter 22

"This is revolting," Hermione complained, her costume now drenched in crimson liquid.

Blaise hummed in agreement as he swam through the severed limbs of the pit, searching for body parts that mirrored his flawlessly bronzed complexion. Hermione coughed lightly, a little blood coating her lips before she held her breath and dove under the surface of the bubbling blood.

Resurfacing, Hermione coughed again as she gasped for air, her expression contorted into one of disgust. Her right hand held onto the torso she had just retrieved, recognising it as her own due to the birth mark beneath her bellybutton. Thankfully, however, the torso was modestly shielded by cloth, hiding her private parts from the eyes of her partner. Something that Hermione was grateful for, given the fact that Blaise was currently raking his eyes over the torso as she tried to swim out of the pit and place the body part with the others she had gathered. Now she only required her right foot.

Blaise successfully located his left hand, identifiable by the small scar in its palm. The scar that he was graced with by his wretched twin sister in their youth. Octavia, always jealous of his ability to perform magic, shoved him off his broom before he could take off, causing him to fall down the stone steps in the Manor gardens. During his tumble, he had cut his hand on the splinters of the shattered broom that fell with him. Octavia had only received a week of isolation at the Manor as punishment, and Blaise's wound was only healed, but the scar remained as his own penance. Of course, his father chose to leave the scar given that Blaise had provoked his sister into shoving him in the first place, saying that she was adopted and not really her sister.

He did not believe that claim, however. He only used the rumour to wound her during their earlier years, knowing that it hurt her greatly. He wouldn't have said it, though, had she not annoyed him greatly at every chance she got. But he knew that she was his sister, regardless of the rumours. He loved her, even though he hated her at times. Octavia was his sister; his twin. No matter what.

Swimming toward the edge of the pit, Blaise grinned as Hermione choked on the blood again, the muggle-born seemingly incapable of not consuming the thick substance.

"How much time do we have?" Hermione asked, grabbing the last limb before swimming back to her collection on the floor.

"Three minutes," Blaise responded, kneeling by his pile of body parts.

Hermione nodded, knowing that they would complete the task within the time frame and advance onto the next room. She was concerned, however, as to how Octavia was fairing in her own room within the Haunted House. And a little concerned as to who her partner was.

A concern that Blaise shared, but did not voice.

* * *

"How much longer is this going to take?" Octavia whined, her skin crawling as a horrid cackle echoed throughout the darkness.

It did not go unnoticed that her grip tightened on his hand, her body pressed against his arm in an attempt to feel safe. A wicked smirk graced his lips as the wizard-born squealed, a ferocious growl rippling through the room, drawing closer as the sound transformed into a vicious snarl.

"Frightened, are you?" Draco teased.

"Yes!" Octavia hissed, not ashamed in the slightest.

Not that she could deny her fear, anyway. Her voice shook, her body trembled and the frequent squeals that escaped her all prevented the lie from fooling anyone. Let alone Draco Malfoy.

" _In the darkness_ ," a creepy voice echoed around them, Octavia whimpering as she scooted closer to Draco, " _one must face the worst of themselves._ "

"What the fuck does that mean?" Octavia screeched as Draco pulled her a little closer, his arm wrapped securely around her shaking waist.

" _Can you face the darkness around you?_ " The voice asked, resembling the sound of a tortured woman. " _Can you face the darkness within you_?"

"I don't like this," Octavia moaned, pushing herself further into Draco's chest.

"It is just a game, Octavia," Draco drawled, his arm holding her tightly against him.

"I don't wanna play the game," Octavia whined, gripping onto his shirt as a wicked cackle echoed around them.

Draco went to respond, but was interrupted by the eerie voice speaking directly to him.

" _She doesn't love you, Draco_."

Draco didn't even blink, continuing to hold the oblivious wizard-born against his chest as she groaned, not the hearing the voice that spoke to him.

" _How can she love a monster like yourself?_ " It asked, the maliciousness coating its voice. " _She loves another. She touches another, and allows him to touch her. Did you know that, Draco? Did you know that her body belongs to another? That she craves his touch and not yours?_ "

Instantly, his body went rigid, his blood running cold. But it was just a game, so was there any truth to these claims?

" _She will marry him over you. She will choose him over you. She will love him over you._ "

"What's wrong?" Octavia whispered, feeling the tenseness of the body she clung onto, his muscles tight and breathing harsh.

" _You want to hurt her, don't you? You want to hurt the one you love, Draco. The darkness is inside of you, begging to destroy her. It would be so much easier to destroy her and take what is left of the girl as your own. Wouldn't it, Draco? So much easier …_ "

Clenching his jaw tightly, Draco closed his eyes and attempted to reign in his fury, telling himself over and over again that the voice was lying. She was not accepting another. She showed jealousy of him and Brown that night, proving that his kindness was warming her to him. His gentleness unravelled her buried feelings for him.

It was easier to take her, yes. But he wanted her willing. Didn't he? Did it matter?

" _After all you've done for her, Draco, she still despises you. The man she loves does not buy her the gifts that you can. He cannot provide for her like you can. But she hates you and will give herself to him … Will you allow that?_ "

"Draco?" Octavia's voice sang out, fear etched into the sound. "What's happening?"

"The voice is speaking to me." Draco responded icily, his arm around her tightening somewhat.

"I can't hear it," Octavia whispered, her body still trembling slightly.

" _What will you do, Draco?_ " The voice asked, hissing like a snake. " _Will you destroy what you love to allow yourself victory and happiness? Or will you allow her to reject and hate you; to destroy you instead?_ "

"Neither." Draco growled, speaking to the voice that hissed in his ears.

" _Time will tell,_ " the hiss responded before a door appeared before them, glowing brightly like the sun, washing away the darkness and the voice that came with it.

* * *

Luna giggled relentlessly on the floor, clutching her pained tummy as her legs kicked out. It was a very difficult task to not wee herself on the floor right there and then. The laughter would not subside, the tarry substance coating her pumpkin dress completely.

Theo raced through the room, using his wand to stab at the balloons, the black sludge not falling on top of him as the balloon burst in the air. Instead, the black substance hovered above him before floating toward Luna and splattering down on the laughing girl that rolled about on the floor.

His initial tactic was to burst all of the orange balloons, causing Luna to laugh and spill her deepest secrets, as opposed to spending the remainder of the time in the room blind and deaf. But so far, her secrets merely comprised of strange creatures and their mysterious existence in locations all over the world. The secret she was currently trying to utter between relentless laughter was one about Nargles and how she and her father will spend Christmas hunting them down in the Netherlands before their claimed sightings could be discovered by others. Regardless, Theo was definitely enjoying her 'secrets', taking great pleasure in the strangeness of the giggling girl.

Several temptations scattered the ground around them, in various shapes and sizes. A few vials of rare and coveted potions were among them, ranging from Felix Felicis to Deepest Dream Draught. The Deepest Dream Draught was definitely the most tempting to Theo, given the nature of the potion and its incredible rarity. It took three years for the potion to brew, its ingredients of the upmost scarcity. But it was certainly worth it to a few. Theo suspected that it had been donated to the game by Blaise and his own private collection of rare tonics.

The potion changed the reality of the drinker, encompassing them in an alternative universe of their own mind's creation, allowing them to live out a year in a deep slumber. Yes, you lost a year of your actual life, but the year you lived in your dream was priceless. Your deepest desires were presented to you on a silver platter, living your fantasy for twelve whole months straight. To people like Theo, the potion was definitely tempting to say the least.

It could come in handy when he would spend the rest of his life wed to a woman that he did not love, unable to have the one he truly desired.

But he did not touch the potion. It lay on the ground, Theo glancing at it repeatedly, unsure on his final decision. A decision that he would have to make shortly, given that they only had three minutes left in their game and he had still not located the ticket.

The ticket …

Was it worth it? Was it worth advancing to the next round, spending a further fifteen minutes with Luna? If he chose this option, he would be giving up a year with her. A fantasy year, of course, depending on your beliefs.

For some alchemists and Potions Masters believed that the draught transferred your soul into another universe, your body left behind in the physical planes of this world. Theo wasn't sure if he believed that or not, but the reality remained: to him, the year with Luna would feel real and allow him an escape from his actual year of misery.

He didn't know what to choose.

* * *

Octavia didn't release her iron grip on Draco's arm as he escorted her through the glowing door, finding themselves in a plain room, surrounded by various types of doors. Some doors were large and regular, some tiny and round. But Octavia didn't care, having spotted Hermione and Blaise in the room, the Bloody Baron floating next to the blood-covered pair.

Blaise quirked his brow as his gaze turned to the two occupants that just entered the room, his sister holding tightly onto Draco's muscular arm as though she would die without him. Hermione's eyes widened briefly before her lips set into a thin line of disapproval, her face smeared with blood.

Draco and Octavia approached the Head Boy and Girl, Octavia slowly releasing her hold on his arm as she blushed profusely.

"Why are you covered in blood?" Octavia asked, attempting to deflect the attention from her and Draco.

Before Blaise or Hermione could respond, the Bloody Baron soared high up above them, his booming voice echoing forebodingly around them.

"Welcome to Murder Mayhem!" The Blood Baron bellowed. "Only four have made it this far, some failing and others succumbing to temptations, but who will survive the final challenge?"

"Excuse me," Octavia interrupted, raising her hand as though she was in class. "We're still waiting on Luna and Theo."

"Do not interrupt me, mortal!" The Bloody Baron roared, Octavia flinching in response. "Your friends have failed, and so it is the four of you from here on out!"

Octavia gazed up at the frightening ghost, her eyes wide as she nodded and scooted a little closer to Draco. The pureblood slipped his arm around her waist, smirking at an unimpressed Blaise when she didn't object and allowed his touch. Mocking Blaise further, Draco placed a gentle kiss atop her curls as she pressed against him, Octavia oblivious as she gazed with wide eyes at the ghost.

"You will each enter a door of your choosing, _alone_." The threatening ghost declared, hovering above them. "The only challenge you will face is deception, little ones. You must defeat the murderer amongst you, lest you fall victim yourselves."

Hermione smiled proudly, having constructed this game predominantly by herself. But the Bloody Baron decided who the murderer was himself, causing Hermione to play the game like the others.

The Bloody Baron handed out a single card to each of the four students, all four of them shielding it from the others' eyes as they glanced at the cards. Each card stated whether you were an innocent, or the offender. The moment they ascertained their allocations within the game, the cards turned to ashes in their very hands, gone from prying eyes.

Octavia attempted to keep her expression composed after seeing her card, her hazel eyes fixing on the ghost as it spoke again.

"To win the game, you must reach yours truly without falling victim to the murderer." The Bloody Baron explained, his white eyes flickering between the four students. "Do not trust a soul, for even the one that loves you most can be your downfall. _Trust me_."

A shudder rippled through Octavia's body as she recalled the tale of the Blood Baron. According to the rumours, he had stabbed his own love to death before taking his own life in an act of misery and heartbreak. They both now haunted the castle of Hogwarts, the Bloody Baron forever roaming the land of the living covered in her silvery blood.

She had always considered the rumour to be rather ridiculous, thinking it impossible to hurt the one you love most. But by the hollow look in his eyes as he gazed at nothing, the rumour appeared to hold truth to it.

"Excuse me!" Octavia peeped up again. "What do we get if we win?"

Draco smirked beside her, his cold silvery eyes looking down at the greedy wizard-born. Despite her vast wealth and extensive belongings, she always wanted more.

"There is no prize," Hermione snipped, evidently displeased by the way Octavia allowed Draco to touch her. "It's a Halloween game, not the Quidditch World Cup."

"Jeez," Octavia raised her brows at her friend, completely oblivious to the reason for Hermione's curtness.

"It is time to select a door," The Bloody Baron declared. "The murderer will be greeted with a selection of weapons once they enter the next room, and passages to the victims."

Blaise and Hermione dispersed instantly, each approaching their selected doors. But Octavia stopped Draco from walking off, grabbing his arm as their eyes met.

"If I win, can I have more punch?" Octavia asked, eager to get something out of this horrid game.

Draco regarded her coolly for a moment before nodding once to indicate his approval. The wizard-born beamed before running off the tiny purple door, which he knew she would choose, Draco watching her for a moment before stalking off toward the black door covered in rusted chains. He had only agreed to allowing her punch if she won, for he knew that she would lose. He would win, for he was the murderer and he planned on twisting her request in his favour.

* * *

Twirling a long silver blade in his hand, Draco strolled through the maze as he leisurely searched for his first victim. It was not a difficult decision for him to choose the Granger girl as his first target, finding that he didn't mind either way really. As long as he saved Octavia for last.

Rustling bushes moved ahead of him, indicating the nearby proximity of the mudblood he was about to kill. Well, kill in the game at least. He had already tested the blade, ascertaining its function before selecting it as his weapon. The thin and long silver blade grazed across his palm, seemingly slicing the skin right open but he felt no pain with the artificial wound. The injury bled, but there was nothing on his palm. No cut, no scar, no injury, no pain.

Further wishing to test the knife, he rammed it into his hand, watching intently as the blade appeared to enter his palm. But it was merely an illusion. The blade disappeared upon contact with his flesh, fake blood trickling out of the handle and onto his skin to present the effect of injury. Rather creative, he mused.

His footsteps made no noise, muffled by the grass beneath him, as he strolled through the bushy maze. Draco didn't know exactly where Granger was, but he followed the occasional rustling bushes, knowing that it would lead him directly to her.

As he was being led further into the web of a maze, Draco knew that Granger was thereby nearing her intended target; the Bloody Baron. The ghost would currently be occupying this particular room due to Draco's presence here. Which meant that Blaise and Octavia would be searching their own surroundings for a ghost that was nowhere to be found.

No matter.

Granger was proving to be an easy target to track thus far, if the continuously rustling bushes were any indication. Although he was perceptive enough to know that the branches were moving for a reason; she was searching for something she could use against him. A large branch, perhaps. Something that would not hurt him physically, but delay him long enough for her to win the game.

Alas, there was no point in her attempts to acquire a weapon to assist her. With each slow and determined step he took, muffled against the grassy ground, he drew nearer to the unsuspecting mudblood. She didn't stand a chance. Particularly when the rules she crafted herself ensured that any use of magic or wands would cause the cheater to instantly lose the game. It made her all the easier to take down. Not that her inferior magic would help her defeat him anyway.

Draco remained perfectly stoic as he stepped around a large bush, spotting Granger sneaking her way through the space ahead. Twirling the knife in his hand, his cold eyes fixed on the unsuspecting mudblood before he raised his hand and hurled the knife right at her. He watched, completely unphased, as the blade whirled in the air, flying toward the girl as she peeked around another corner, a hefty stick clasped in her hands.

The mudblood yelped as the blade connected with the centre of her back, fake blood spilling out the wound that did not exist.

Granger groaned as she tossed the stick onto the ground, turning to face the approaching murder, her eyes narrowing as she learned the identity of the perpetrator.

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione sighed, eyeing a nearing Draco with disdain.

Draco didn't respond, not desiring to converse with a mudblood in the slightest. He bent down in front of her, grabbing his blade before righting himself. Further ahead in the pathway lined with bushes, a white door appeared, evidently serving to remove the loser from the game.

Draco didn't even glance at the mudblood as he turned and strolled back through the maze in the direction in which he came, making his own way back to the door he entered through. The door that would now lead him to his next victim.

* * *

If Blaise Zabini was surprised at the realisation of Draco being the murderer, he did not show it. Although Draco doubted that his life-long comrade was startled at the discovery, both of them finding the allocation within the game to be rather fitting. The knife was clasped loosely Draco's hand, blood staining the blade as the two friends faced one another, neither backing down.

The hostility between them was evident, a foreign sensation within their otherwise solid friendship. The cause of the hostility was no mystery, however. It was clear that Blaise was displeased with Draco's progress with Octavia throughout the night, the wizard-born clinging to Draco for a sense of security despite his prior actions toward her. The little squib was far too easily swayed given the torment she suffered, in Blaise's opinion. Although it likely could be attributed to her crippling fear of the Haunted House, as well as the several helpings to the spiked punch she allowed herself. Regardless of the reason, however, Draco accepted her need for him, Blaise thoroughly displeased by the situation. Something that he was not afraid to show Draco in his dark eyes alone.

So the two friends entered into a stand-off of sorts, Blaise not making any move to evade the murderer before him. They stood tall and straight as they stared at one another intently, neither breaking eye-contact as the unspoken words journeyed between them.

A wicked swarm of silver swarmed in Draco's eyes as Blaise rolled up his own sleeves before slipping off the wolf mask, preparing for the inevitable. A fight.

In their childhood and early years, Draco and Blaise would frequently spar with one another during their physical training in combat, Draco always coming out victorious. But it appeared to not effect Blaise's decision in the slightest, his steady movements inviting Draco into battle. The blonde aristocrat remained stoic and composed, despite the malicious glint in his eyes, securely slipping the blade into his belt. Following suit, Draco set to rolling up the sleeves of his own shirt before removing his mask and tossing it onto the ground beneath him.

The replica of the Dark Forest in which they stood creaked and groaned eerily around them, but neither pureblood was affected. They were not afraid. They were focused.

With slow and determined steps, the two approached each other as the light from the moon illuminated their surroundings, the growls and hisses of the Dark Forest going unheard. Draco waited patiently, knowing that it was always Blaise who took the first swing. He was never more predictable than during their fights.

Proving Draco right, Blaise's expression contorted into one of rage as his fist swung out in the direction of the pale and handsome face before him, Draco easily dodging the attack. Draco leaned backwards just in time, Blaise spinning around and attempting to hit his comrade with a high kick to the head. The attack only just missed him, Draco's eyes alighting with excitement and anger, seeing the vehemence in the dark eyes of the Italian.

Both men righted themselves, now walking in a smooth and steady circle as they eyed one another intently, the thick tension between them evident in the intensity of the silence alone. All thoughts of the game and winning were vacant in that moment, both entering into a physical fight for other reasons. Well, for one reason: Octavia. And Draco was determined to win. As he always did.

Speedily, Blaise spun around again, his leg raised high as his foot connected harshly with Draco's chest, the latter grunting as he stumbled backwards. Lively grey eyes narrowed on the smug Italian as all scraps of friendliness evaporated with that hit alone. So quickly, their movements were a blur, Draco and Blaise lunged at one another, the former swiftly whirling around the Italian before they could connect. Blaise's attempted blow to the head went unsuccessful as Draco's fist clashed with his back, Blaise grunting at the sharp pain that stung at his spine.

But both quickly faced each other, Blaise punching Draco in the gut harshly before stepping forward and bringing Draco's face down to his uprising knee. Before he could successfully knee Draco in the face, the blonde pureblood brought his arms up and crossed them right in front of his face, his forearms taking the brunt of the hit.

Before Blaise even knew what was happening, he found himself colliding with a tree, the rough bark scraping at his skin through his shirt, the back of his head smacking against the solid piece of nature.

Blaise lunged out of the way just in time as Draco's clenched fist connecting with the tree trunk, right where Blaise's head had been a split second before. Draco slowly brought his own fist closer to himself, inspecting his bloodied knuckles indifferently before he brushed off the splinters and shards of bark. The tree trunk now featured a dent in its appearance in the shape of Draco's fist.

Feral glints shone in each man's eyes as their gazes met, Blaise panting harshly as his upper lip curled in pure anger. The hand that just attempted to hit him had been the hand that caused so much pain to his sister. It was the hand that issued a string of hexes to his sister over the span of seven years. What made Blaise so furious, however, was the fact that the hand was the very thing that touched his sister that night in comforting ways, wrapping around her wrist, and guided her to safety. The hand that hurt his sister, but protected her too.

The hand that Blaise wanted nothing more than to cripple into nothing but shards of bone.

Blaise lunged at Draco, the latter following suit as their bodies collided audibly, both purebloods falling to the floor as they wrestled. All technique of their trained combat was forgotten in that moment, both just desperately trying to hurt the other. Their fists swung out, punching each other in the sides repeatedly, their bodies rolling around on the grass, neither winning nor losing.

That is, until Draco straddled Blaise and punched him square in the jaw, blood instantly falling from the split of skin. Again, Draco raised his fist before bringing it down on his friend, breaking the skin of Blaise's cheekbone as the Italian grunted. Using the dazed state of Blaise to his advantage, Draco swiftly yanked the knife from his belt before stabbing his friend right in the chest, fake blood pouring from the area onto the grass that surrounded them.

Satisfied with his win in both the game and fight, Draco pushed himself from the bloodied figure beneath him, standing above his friend and staring down at him with cold eyes.

"When will you learn?" Draco asked coldly, the bloodied blade in his grasp. "I always win, Blaise."

* * *

The longer she was there, the creepier it became. The graveyard spanned out around her, clouded in a thick fog that appeared to stem from the ground itself. Each and every tombstone she passed was blank at first, but now was engraved with the names of Hermione and Blaise. Octavia assumed that to be an indication to their loss of the game, falling victim to the murderer. The murderer who was evidently Draco, given that his name was not on the tombstones, meaning that she was the last innocent standing.

Thunder and lightning boomed loudly above her, causing her to flinch for the hundredth time in thirty minutes. The longest thirty minutes of her life. She just hoped that she won, however, for this bloody game had killed her buzz from the punch. All she wanted in that moment, was to return to the Great Hall and devour an entire cauldron of the spiked punch, thereby restoring her prior giddiness.

A particularly sinister crack in the cloudy skies above her shattered the air, Octavia freezing on the spot as her ears rung. Slowly, Octavia turned around, her hazel eyes wide with trepidation as she spotted a tall figure amidst the smog. The muscular figure was instantly recognisable to Octavia, even without the piercing silver eyes that penetrated the thick fog.

Draco stood farther down the vast graveyard, a bloodied knife in his right hand, his other hand tucked into his pocket as he stared directly at her, a cruel smirk twisting at his pink lips. All previously forgotten fear of the man washed over her in one powerful wave, despite the fact that they were merely playing a game.

The familiar adrenaline he stirred within her soared through her veins, causing her to turn and sprint off in the opposite direction. Heavy and swift footsteps sounded out behind her, alerting her to the fact that the murderer was on hot pursuit of his final victim.

Octavia panted harshly as she bolted through the endless array of tombstones. The fog that coated the ground parted and dispersed as she sprinted as fast as her legs could carry her, her heels hardly assisting in her attempt to escape the nearing predator.

Weaving and winding her way through the slabs of stone that protruded from the grassy ground, Octavia's wide eyes frantically searched the area for any signs of the Bloody Baron, and therefore, her potential win. But she saw nothing, her attention pulled back to Draco as he neared her, running toward her at an incredible speed.

Suddenly, his footsteps were no longer echoing around her, Octavia stumbling as she tried to stop in her tracks. She spun around in circles, almost tripping over her own feet as she glanced around her, no sign of the Draco in wolf's clothing.

"Little rabbit," his cruel voice echoed around her, slicing through the air like the knife he carried with him.

Octavia couldn't locate the man who spoke in the cold voice, spinning and turning around constantly as her wide eyes searched her surroundings.

"Stop it, Draco!" Octavia shouted, the fear in her whiny voice evident. "It's not funny!"

"Don't you want to play?" Draco teased, his tone drenched with malicious joy.

"No!" Octavia snapped, moodiness taking over her as she cocked her hip and folded her arms across her chest. "Stop it!"

"You have to play if you want to win," Draco's icy voice echoed around her, seemingly coming from everywhere. "Don't you want to win?"

Octavia scowled, debating internally whether the punch as her prize would be worth the adrenaline of the game. She didn't know. For the game was taking its toll on her.

"If you win," Draco continued, seeing that she was considering his words as he hid within the fog, "you may have all the punch that your little rabbit heart desires."

A glimmer of silver caught her attention, her narrowed eyes focusing in on the slivery substance. The Bloody Baron. Not too far away. Far. But close enough that she may just reach the ghost before Draco caught her.

"Ok," Octavia smirked, Draco grinning widely as he watched her sneakiness from the thick mist.

He watched with mercurial eyes, alight with the excitement of the chase, as she slipped off her stilettos, kicking them to the side with her stocking-clad feet. The delicious and devious smirk still graced her luscious lips as she evidently thought that she was outwitting Draco. How wrong she was.

"Run fast, little rabbit." Draco hissed, his glee palpable in the exhilaration of his wicked grin.

Octavia turned and bolted in the direction of the ghost in the distance, the material that covered her feet dampening from the contact with the moist grass beneath her. Draco's rapid and heavy footsteps echoed around her, his proximity much closer than she had anticipated, causing an increase of adrenaline to pump through her veins. The cloak that adorned her billowed in the wind as she sprinted, her panting breaths ripping through the icy air as Draco chased her swiftly, his eyes alight with malice and entertainment. He certainly saved the best chase until last, that was for sure.

As always, Draco relished in her fear of him, her conflicted emotions only increasing his sadistic pleasure. For even though she was afraid, they both knew that she was enjoying herself. That she was having fun with him.

Was she the masochist to his sadist? He hoped so.

Octavia panted harshly as his footsteps neared, Draco closing in on her as she bolted through the lines of gravestones. She couldn't help but grin widely, the excitement bubbling up inside of her as she sprinted, the Bloody Baron coming into clearer view as she approached. But she just wasn't quick enough.

A squeal escaped her parted lips as she was tackled to the grassy ground, preparing herself for the harsh collision that awaited her. But none came. Instead, Octavia was flipped mid-air, landing face-down on Draco's chest, his back taking the full force of the impact.

Octavia erupted into a fit of giggles as she successfully squirmed out of his arms that embraced her, attempting to crawl away as quickly as she could before he snatched her ankle.

Octavia squealed and giggled splendidly as she wrestled with Draco, much like they did when they were children, his snatching of her limbs much gentler than usual. Wiggling around on the grass, Octavia kicked her feet out at a grinning Draco as he tried to pin her down. He employed an intensely dimmed amount of strength with her, allowing her the chance to hope she could win, taking great joy in her vigorous, yet playful resistance.

Large hands snatched at her flailing legs, yanking her toward him as she lay on her back, laughing brilliantly. Draco grinned as he swiftly lowered himself on top of her, his weight holding her down as she squirmed and giggled.

"I win," Draco smirked, grabbing her wrists and pinning them down at either side of her head.

The wizard-born beneath him subsided her giggling onslaught as her body began to calm in its flailing movements, her sparkling hazel eyes gazing up at him. His breath caught in his throat as he looked into her brilliant eyes, seeing the affection that resided within them during their childhood. Instantly, Draco knew that she had forgotten his prior treatment of her, Octavia simply lost in the moment with him.

"I still get punch, though." Octavia countered, beaming up at him brilliantly. Completely unaware of the hardness in his pants pressed firmly against her core. Lost in the moment with him.

Draco smirked, moving her wrists above her head and holding them down with one hand, his free hand slipping down to his belt. He gripped the handle of the bloodied blade and removed it from the security of his belt, bringing it back up to the oblivious wizard-born beneath him.

"What is my prize?" Draco whispered, his tone filled with malice as he raised the knife to her neck.

"Giving me punch," Octavia laughed, high on excitement and nostalgic joy. The way he used to make her feel.

She could feel the cold blade of the knife against her throat, but was not in the least bit frightened. The Draco above her was not the Draco who tormented her. He was her friend; the one from her childhood. The boy who adored her and played with her. The boy who was kind and sweet to her.

"Such a greedy little rabbit," Draco teased, his face hovering just above hers, his breath brushing over her lips as they gazed at one another.

Draco pushed the knife against her smooth pale skin, sliding across her throat slowly to kill her life in the game. She didn't even blink, not feeling the movement or the pain that it did not bring. His lively eyes kept her focus, ensuring that she remained in her excited state, reigniting the effects of the punch she had already consumed. Manoeuvring the situation in his favour.

Slowly, Draco lowered his face toward hers, his lips inching closer to her parted plump lips, her sweet breath luring him in. Enchanting him. For she was his enchantress. Her magic was not like his, but she was magical all the same. Her eyes were magical, her lips, her body, her soul. He could no longer resist the spell she placed on him. He was a slave to her magic.

The magic of a squib.

"This is my prize," Draco breathed against her lips.

* * *

It was long passed curfew as Octavia trotted through the corridors of the castle, but it hardly mattered to her. Despite the late hour, the Halloween Ball continued to rage on, more than a few partygoers occupying the Great Hall as they danced and sang joyously. Only a few Professors remained at the Ball, supervising the festivities with tired and weary eyes. But not _her_ Professor, no.

Professor Diggory had departed the Great Hall over an hour ago, undoubtedly retiring to his quarters in an endeavour to sleep the remainder of the night away. Something that Octavia just could not allow. In that moment, more than any other, Octavia needed him. So she scurried through the empty corridors, her heels clacking loudly as liquid courage consumed her entire body. She was not nervous, nor was she apprehensive. There was no doubt in her mind about her upcoming actions. It is what she wanted, and so it would be.

Octavia was giving her body to her boyfriend that night.

As she made her way through the corridors, she couldn't help but wonder. Did her determination to accept Cedric that night have anything to do with Draco? No. Of course it didn't. She had planned on this happening in advance. Way before those things happened with Draco in the graveyard. Things she wished she could take back. Things that she would pretend never happened, and not speak of to anyone.

Her destination approached as she quickened her pace down the hallway, stopping only when she reached his office door. Lightly knocking at the thick wooden door, Octavia smirked as no response came. Good. It meant that he was in bed. Slowly, she turned the handle and opened the creaky door to reveal his unoccupied office.

She quickly scurried into the room, closing the door behind her, her gaze fixed on the other door. The door that resided in the wall behind the Professor's desk. The door which led to his chambers.

Octavia almost bolted toward the entrance, desperate to be in the arms of her boyfriend. To have his tongue wash away the taste that lingered in her mouth. The taste of peppermint that coated her tongue and soul. She needed Cedric to wash away the shame of what she had done.

Slipping through the door, Octavia wasted not a moment before running through the small hallway that was lit with small candles. She tried a few doors before finding the desired one, sneaking into his bedroom as quietly as a mouse. Or a snake.

Yes. Definitely a snake.

That is what she was. Not because her house was represented by the creature, but because she was a slippery snake herself. Her actions that night proved it. Actions that she despised herself for.

Octavia eyed the sleeping figure of her Professor in the bed, watching his chest rise and fall steadily with each soothing breath. Her fingers set to peeling off her costume, but her eyes never left her boyfriend. Her pure and sweet boyfriend that would never betray her like she did him.

Guilt clenched at her insides, but it wasn't strong enough for her to spill her misdeeds to the man in the bed. So she kicked off her last piece of clothing, now completely nude as she tip-toed toward the bed, lifting up the sheets and slipping in beside a waking Cedric.

This was the only way to cleanse herself.

* * *

 _Her body was on fire. Every nerve ending in her body was alight with passion and need, lust pooling at her core as he devoured her mouth like a man starving. The desperation in the kiss drowned Octavia in sheer need, her eyelids shut as she moaned into his delicious mouth. Draco ground himself against her, her core flooding with elixir as she whimpered, their tongues dancing passionately together. Craving one another, needing one another. Taking one another._

 _Complete exhilaration consumed her as she submitted to his dominating tongue, Draco grinding himself against her once more, her back arching as ecstasy shot through her body. A gasp escaped her lips, Draco swallowing it greedily, as he removed his hold on her wrists, grabbing her slender thighs and hiking them up to his hips. Octavia instinctively wrapped her legs around him, locking at the ankles as he thrusted his trapped cock harshly against her aching core. A delicious moan escaped the wizard-born, Draco hissing at the pleasure the movements brought, their tongues still twisting together deliciously, keeping her in the trance._

 _Draco knew that if he were to make one wrong movement, like ending their kiss, it would haul her from the daze she was in. And he just wasn't sure if he could stop. Thankfully, he wasn't presented with her resistance, the wetness of her heat soaking through the material that shielded them both._

 _Feeling his body climbing the blissful ecstasy ladder, Draco's body tensed as he fought off the premature onslaught of crippling pleasure, desperate to bring her with him into the euphoric abyss. Desperate to hear her cry out from the intensity of his ministrations. Desperate to feel her body squirm beneath his as he delivered her the same pleasure she provided him with._

 _Wrapping one arm around her waist, Draco held her impossibly close to him as he thrusted against her harshly, the squib yelping at the brutal impact and ruthless pleasure that assaulted her. His free hand tightly gripped the back of her neck, keeping her head in place for his tongue to devour her mouth as he ground himself against her again. The friction sent jolts of fire and magical currents through their bodies, Octavia completely lost in the sensations he engulfed her in._

 _His muscular arm that held her to him tensed as he emitted a gravelly groan into her sweet mouth, Octavia mewing in response as she bucked her own hips upwards. Her body craved more of the pleasure he gave her, the thickness of his grinding cock only adding to the intense euphoria pumping through her veins._

 _Each harsh thrust against her soaked core jolted her body upwards, but his arm prevented an escape as continued to thrust desperately. The moment her legs began to quake around his hips, Draco lost every bit of self-control he was holding onto. Pulling his lips away from hers, Draco propped himself up with one forearm resting on the grass beside her head, the other still wrapped around her waist._

 _Molten grey eyes stared down at the hooded eyes of the squib, drinking in the sounds of her whimpers and intelligible murmurs, his hips never ceasing in their swift and rapid movements. Light pants escaped his swollen lips as his eyes ravished her alluring expression of sheer bliss as he removed his hand from the back of her neck and instantly grabbed at her breasts through the material of her costume. Sitting on his knees, his hand firmly massaged the soft mounds, his other arm still snaked underneath her, holding her in place as speedily ground himself against her._

 _The pulsing cock trapped within his trousers twitched and jerked incessantly, desperate for the release he cruelly denied himself as he tilted his hips and picked up the pace. The cleavage of her modest, yet full breasts bounced beautifully with the force of his thrusts, her legs shaking as they outstretched, her toes curling. He watched in complete fascination, evidently in a trance of his own, as her back arched and lips parted in a silent scream, time standing still as they both tensed._

 _Suddenly, the most splendid mewing sound he had ever heard ripped through the air, Octavia's face contorted in sheer ecstasy as her frenzied nerves vibrated within her quaking body. Her knees bent, her toes curling and uncurling, her feet stretching and legs kicking out as she screamed to the heavens, Draco panting harshly as he gave one final violent thrust._

 _A roar escaped Draco as his head lolled forward, cum shooting out of his twitching cock, further wetting his already soaked trousers as Octavia squirmed on the grass, his hold not allowing her an escape. Not that she was trying to escape. She was much to submerged in the pleasure, lost in the trance._

 _Draco's muscular body crashed down upon her petite frame as they both breathed harshly, Octavia's body twitching occasionally as the euphoria left her. And as the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced left her body, reality began to seep in slowly._

 _They lay there on the grass, their bodies entwined as their breathing began to steady, Draco grinning widely against her delectable curls. But Octavia wasn't grinning, nor was she smiling._

 _Her hazel eyes stared up at the night sky, wide with the realisation of what she had done, filled with the shame of her desire to do it all over again. Burdened with the indiscretions of her inner darkness._

 _A single tear trickling down her porcelain pale cheek._

* * *

Softened eyes gazed down at her, searching her wide hazel doe-eyes for any signs of hesitance, but found none. The vision beneath him raised her hips, the tip of his proudly erect cock brushing against her soaked slit. Cedric's eyelids drooped fleetingly at the sensation her movement brought him, placing his muscled legs between her spread slender ones.

With slow and careful movements, Cedric gripped the base of his shaft, positioning himself at the entrance to her uncharted crevice, the dampness of her core lubricating the head of his cock. Her cunt shone and glistened with the wetness that slipped out of her, combined with the traces of her earlier orgasm from another man.

"Are you ready?" Cedric whispered, his voice thick with lust.

Octavia smiled, nodding lightly as she gazed up at him warmly.

"It'll hurt," Cedric said, his brow furrowing in concern.

"I know," Octavia nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Cedric smiled before placing a soft kiss on her sweet lips, pushing the head of his weeping cock against her slick folds. Their lips remained connected as her folds parted for his shaft steadily, Cedric drawing on all self-control as he slowly nudged against them. Her heat was so wet, allowing him easier access to the core he desired so shamelessly. Cedric entirely unaware of the orgasm that coated her insides, provided by Draco Malfoy less than an hour ago.

Octavia grimaced as pain surged through her, his generously hefty shaft pushing into her cunt, stretching her impossibly as she clamped down on him. Thankfully, Cedric stopped, only the head of his tense cock inside of her tight crevice, allowing her a moment to relax as he gazed down at her with concern.

His eyes scanned her contorted features, her nose scrunched up as her eyes shut tight from the pain. But more pain was to come if she wished to continue. He hadn't even reached her barrier yet.

Octavia exhaled before opening her eyes slowly, meeting his gentle gaze that caused her heart to clench with guilt. But he didn't see that, of course. He only saw the lust in her hazel eyes, the slight nod of her head indicating for him to continue. Cedric bent down, placing the softest kiss on her swollen lips before he pulled back as he pushed himself further inside of her painfully tight cunt.

Cedric felt as though he trying to push his cock into a novelty inkpot, her tight walls squeezing against him as her body remained tense from the pain. Pain that she really wasn't prepared for.

Yes, Octavia was well aware that losing your virginity was a painful affair. But the extent of said pain was hardly spoken about so freely, therefore she was less than prepared. Despite this fact, Octavia was nowhere near ready to cease in her offering to Cedric. She needed him to take her. She needed to give herself to him. She needed the guilt to washed away by the boyfriend she betrayed. The boyfriend whom she had no intention of enlightening to her misdeeds ever.

Again, he stopped, only a third of the way inside of her, his apprehensive eyes fixed on her pained expression.

"Just …" Octavia murmured, the pain evident in her tone. "Just do it, Cedric."

She was on the verge of backing out, feeling as though she was being slowly impaled on a truncheon. She was in agony! No one ever talked about just how painful it was. Would it always be agonising? Would it hurt every time she had sex? She fucking hoped not.

"Hold on," Cedric instructed gently, Octavia's hand automatically moving to grip his bare shoulders.

Deliberately, Cedric pulled out of her, his movements slow and tender until only the tip of his cock remained inside of her. He didn't wait before plunged himself deep within her with one swift thrust, Octavia's back arching as she cried out from the pain. His cock didn't falter in the slightest as he tore through her barrier, the skin tearing inside of her as she whimpered and groaned.

Buried to the hilt, Cedric instantly froze, his worried gaze focusing on the contorted face of his now-lover, waiting for the pain to pass. The urge to continue fucking her went ignored by Cedric, his attention on Octavia who continued to whimper beneath him.

Once the burning sensation dimmed considerably, Octavia opened her eyes and met the warm gaze of her boyfriend, his brown hair falling over his forehead, looking as handsome as ever. Despite the lingering pain, Octavia gave him a soft smile which he returned.

"Are you ok?" Cedric asked.

Octavia only managed a nod in response, not trusting her voice to support her lie. Like fuck was she ok!

He seemed to notice the hesitance in her eyes, however.

"It only hurts for a moment," Cedric assured before lowering himself and placing a tender kiss on her smooth forehead.

Octavia smiled, but he didn't see the gesture. Cedric buried his face into her curls, both arms slipping underneath her and holding her against him tightly. She felt loved in his sweet embrace, the proximity of his body screaming intimacy and tenderness. It was nice, she realised.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, much like she did with Draco a mere hour ago, Octavia indicated with her movements that she was ready.

Still holding her against him, Cedric slowly slipped his cock out of her wet heat to the tip before leisurely sliding back in. The movements brought no pleasure to Octavia, but with each exit and re-entrance, the pain faded considerably, until there was no pain left, but only the stretching sensation that consumed her core.

Slow and fluid thrusts filled her cunt to the brim, each movement causing Cedric to drown in pleasure. He controlled his urges and continued to fuck her slowly, ensuring that each thrust was long and gentle. But he knew his premature climax was nearing him, increased primarily by the purity of her body that she offered him.

The first time for him and Cho had gone a similar way, his high-school sweetheart not enjoying an orgasm by the sex alone. He had spent considerable time and effort after he came quickly, ensuring that she climaxed by use of his fingers. It was hardly the most romantic first time, and the same was evident for the student beneath him. Yet Cedric knew that he could not resist his orgasm long enough for her to cum with him, aware that the very reason was due to the evidence of her virginity coating his tense cock.

His thrusts gradually began to quicken in pace, Octavia's pain returning at the swift intrusions, grimacing against his neck as she bit her lip harshly. Cedric uttered a few grunts and groans, slamming in and out of her swiftly, Octavia not speaking of the pain it caused her, knowing that he was close to his climax.

Her walls clamped down on him, attempting to push him out of her with a mind of its own, Cedric continuing to plunge in and out of her tight cunt. All Octavia wanted in that moment was for the act to end as quickly as possible, for it was not as she had anticipated.

Octavia placed her hands on his solid back, her nails digging into his smooth flesh in an attempt to encourage him. It had the desired effect instantly.

Cedric's hold around her body tightened as his thrusts increased in speed and urgency, his face burying into her loose curls as he panted harshly.

"Octavia," Cedric groaned, pumping himself in and out of her aching cunt, oblivious to the pain that consumed her. "Fuck, Octavia. I –"

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted as he slammed deep inside of her to the hilt, his cock and body tensing before a gravelly shout tore through his throat. Octavia sighed blissfully as she felt his load empty deep within her burning core, grateful that he had finished and the act was over. He mistook her happy sigh, however, sliding out of her slowly before thrusting back in, his cock buried deep within her.

"I love you," Cedric whispered, the words almost inaudible to her.

Octavia's eyes widened instantly, his cock still jerking against her walls as cum trickled out of the tip, Cedric's body slumping down upon hers.

"I love you too," Octavia lied.


	23. Chapter 23

Glittery purple earmuffs defended her life from the fatal scream of the mandrakes that echoed around the greenhouse. Professor Stout yelled instructions over the deadly cries of the strange creatures, but Octavia still couldn't hear the woman. She wasn't sure that any of the students could hear her, in fact, considering they were all adoring thick earmuffs that blocked out any sound. So why Professor Stout was shouting over the cries to her students, was simply beyond O's comprehension. Silly woman.

Hermione and Luna flanked her by the decaying wooden table, all three girls attempting to shove their writhing mandrakes into a fresh pot of soil. Octavia grimaced as the chubby creature kicked dirt at her as it squirmed, causing her to exercise a little less tenderness in her actions. Scowling at the mandrake, Octavia stuffed it into the pot roughly before setting to burying the screeching nuisance in more soil.

Satisfied, Octavia brushed the dirt from her school uniform, glancing around the table as she waited for the remainder of students to succeed in their tasks. Given that it was the last class of the day, Octavia was definitely eager for the students to finish as quickly as possible, thereby presenting them with the opportunity at an early dismissal from their plump Professor. Octavia was in dire need of as much free time as possible in order to tackle the growing stack of assignments that were stuffed into her schoolbag.

She had spent the entire day before submerging herself into a mass of faux guilt and self-pity as she mulled over the events of the Halloween Ball that weekend. With that wasted Sunday day, Octavia found herself already impossibly behind in her assignments due at the end of the week.

Once the crying mandrakes had all been securely tucked away in their pots, Professor Stout waved her hand, indicating that it was now safe for the students to remove their protective equipment. Breathing a sigh of relief, Octavia yanked off her expensive earmuffs before slipping off the purple leather gloves from her slender fingers, the rest of the class doing the same.

"Now!" Professor Stout began, her round face flushed from the heat of the greenhouse. "We can all begin fertilising the soil with the provided tonics in your allocated vials. Allow the potion to be absorbed for ten minutes, then place your mandrake in your lockers with the provided sunflowers."

Octavia snatched the closest vial before watching Hermione to determine the correct amount of drops that had to be administered into the fresh soil. She only began to fertilise the soil once Hermione had finished, copying her Gryffindor friend's action precisely.

"So what happened to you on Saturday?" Hermione asked, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"Huh?"

"After the Haunted House," Hermione elaborated. "I couldn't find you, and I didn't see you yesterday. Did Malfoy do something?"

"Oh," Octavia frowned, recalling that Draco did _a lot_. "Um, no. I went …" Hermione leaned in as Octavia whispered the last few words, evidently so that the nearby students couldn't eavesdrop on their delicate conversation. "I went to see Cedric."

"Hmm," Hermione hummed, her lips pursed together in disapproval. "And?"

"And," Octavia whispered, Luna joining the quiet conversation. "We … _did it_."

"Did what?"

"You know … _It_."

Octavia made a very crude gesture with her hands causing Hermione to blush lightly.

"Ahem," Hermione cleared her throat, eyeing her friend sternly. "Well if that won't get him fired, nothing will."

"He won't get fired," Octavia laughed, waving her hand dismissively. "No one will find out."

"How was it?" Luna asked.

"Sore. Like … really, really sore."

"Good." Hermione nodded firmly, pleased at the tad of karma her immoral friend received.

Octavia rolled her eyes before turning her attention to Luna.

"I think it won't hurt as much the next time though. Well, I hope not."

"Once is enough, don't you think?" Hermione interjected sternly.

"Um … no." Octavia frowned. "It tends to be something you do more than once, Ninny."

"Not with your Professor," Hermione countered.

"That only makes it more fun," O grinned.

"I'm a bit surprised that he'd allow it to happen, to be honest." Hermione sighed, fiddling with the soil that covered the sleeping mandrake. "He seemed to be somewhat of a gentleman."

"He is." Octavia bit.

"Obviously," Hermione mumbled. "What happened with Malfoy, then?"

"What do you mean?" Octavia blubbered, her eyes wide as she stared worriedly at her suspicious friend.

"You seemed to be … getting along." Hermione said, assessing O's odd reaction. "You were practically joined at the hip the whole night."

"Was not!" Octavia snapped. "Nothing happened."

Hermione hummed, eyeing her blushing friend intently, almost tasting the regret in the air.

"What about you?" Octavia countered, rounding on Hermione. It was the best way to deflect the attention off of her. "You and _my brother_ seemed pretty close."

"Nothing happened, O." Hermione scoffed. "He practically forced himself as my date, and I only went along with it after Harry provoked me."

"Blaise forced you to go with him?" Octavia asked, a devious glint in her spectacular eyes.

"Yes."

Octavia grinned widely, completely thrilled to have the information on her brother. It was surely a goldmine, Octavia willing to throw her brother under the broom with her father if he dared snitch on her costume. Her father would be simply furious to learn about Blaise's continuing crush on a muggle-born witch. Not that her father was racist, or anything. He wasn't. It all came down to preserving the bloodlines. Right?

"What about after the Ball?" Octavia pressed, eager to have as much dirty gossip as possible. The juicier, the better.

"What about it?"

"Did you kiss?" Octavia winked.

"No," Hermione smiled. "In fact … he was in quite a foul mood after the Haunted House. A sore loser, I assume."

Octavia hummed, nodding slowly as she processed her friend's words. Blaise was definitely not a sore loser, having lost to Draco continuously throughout their childhood. Draco would beat him at everything; sparring, flying, studying, languages, wealth, status, power. Everything. Blaise came second always. So Octavia knew instantly that there was more to her brother's sour mood than simply losing a Halloween game.

Maybe it was down to her actions with Draco that night? Not necessarily the dry-fucking in the graveyard, as Blaise wouldn't know about that. Perhaps he was displeased about her and Draco spending the majority of the night together? She had danced with Draco and hung off him throughout the Haunted House for protection. Was that the cause of Blaise's foul mood? She wasn't sure.

"Did he say anything after the Haunted House?" Octavia asked, poorly concealing her investigative eagerness.

"Only that he wanted to be alone," Hermione shrugged. "After that, he left and I stayed at the Ball until the end to clean up and pay the band. He was rather rude about it, too. Didn't even have the courtesy to look at me."

"Oh," Octavia nodded.

If there was one sure way to assess Blaise's sour mood, it was whether he looked at you or not. When he was completely infuriated, to the point of bordering on the edge of hexing everyone within sight, he couldn't even look at people. One pitying or mocking glance that he saw would set him off. She learned the hard way during their childhood. Although it didn't stop her from constantly provoking him further. What else was a sister for?

"Theo did the same," Luna chimed. "He wasn't angry, I don't think. But he just … walked away."

"Perhaps he's a sore loser, too?" Hermione offered.

"Yeah, what happened with you guys in the Haunted House?" Octavia asked, completely distracted by further gossip.

"We were in the balloon room and then the ground swallowed us up," Luna explained, her dim blue eyes flicking between the two girls. "Then we were thrown onto the grass by the Black Lake, covered in mucus. Theo just stood up and walked off without saying anything."

Octavia and Hermione gave the girl a sympathetic smile each.

"Boys," Octavia sighed, Luna and Hermione nodding in agreement.

The timer buzzed, all students turning their attentions back to their mandrake pots, assessing the texture of the damp soil. Everyone seemed to have completed the final step of the lesson, all gently lifting their pots and taking them over to their assigned lockers.

Octavia fiddled with the lock on her small cupboard, biting her lip as she manoeuvred the shaking mandrake pot into the space. She blew a loose curl from her face before tossing her earmuffs and gloves into the locker, slamming the door shut after.

"Hey, O." Hermione called from her own locker further down the wall. "Are you coming to the Head dorms to study?"

Octavia groaned as she slung her bag over her shoulder and approached her friend, Luna struggling at the far end of the greenhouse to steady the shaking mandrake pot.

"Can't." Octavia mumbled, leaning against the lockers. "Have to go to the library."

"Ok," Hermione nodded, her eyes scanning the area now clearing out of students. "O, I … I don't want to upset you, but I just have to ask you."

"Ask me what?" Octavia frowned, readjusting her messy bun of curls atop her head.

"In the Haunted House," Hermione whispered, ensuring nobody overheard their conversation. "You … you were holding onto Malfoy and … it was like you were latching onto him for protection."

Octavia blushed a little, but remained quiet.

"Do you not remember the things he has done to you?" Hermione asked in a hushed tone. "Remember your detention with him? When he hexed you to fall down the staircase after lunch? When he levitated a jug of pumpkin juice over your head in the Great Hall and caused it to fall on you? All the bullying and attacks … Don't you remember that?"

"I remember," Octavia sighed, pushing herself from the lockers. "I haven't forgotten, and I won't."

"Then why were you like _that_ with him?" Hermione asked, utterly baffled.

"I … don't know," Octavia frowned, rubbing her temples with her slender fingers. "It's … complicated."

"It doesn't make any sense, O."

"Not to you it doesn't." Octavia mumbled. "It's … Our society is so different to yours. I … don't know how to explain it."

It was a weak excuse, and whilst it was true, it held no applicability to the situation whatsoever. But Octavia used the excuse to deflect the heat from her, as she just didn't have an answer for Ninny. Octavia asked herself the same questions over and over again the entire Sunday and came up with nothing. She really had no idea why she was that way with him. She just felt safe with him that night. There was no rhyme or reason to it. If there was, her overanalysing and frantic mind surely would have discovered it already. Right?

Definitely.

* * *

The Slytherin Quidditch Team chattered excitedly as they loitered around the locker room, all leisurely dressing for their practice session. Despite the cold weather that awaited them outside on the Quidditch pitch, there was no rain and the sky was cloudless. So the atmosphere was quite excitable, despite the fact that they were all Slytherins, usually cold and somewhat moody. Even their Team Captain appeared to be in a decent mood as he slipped on his tight Quidditch gear, conversing with the other two members of the Trio.

Even though the Slytherin Trio were seemingly relaxed as they spoke amongst themselves, their conversation possessed a rather bitter tone to it. Not necessarily the topic at hand, but more the atmosphere which surrounded them. An atmosphere so subtle that their fellow Slytherins remained ignorant to it.

"Was she upset?" Blaise asked conversationally, no real interest residing in his tone or bored expression.

"Probably," Theo said, pulling on his tight Quidditch sweater. "I didn't stick around to find out."

"You just left her on the grounds?" Blaise drawled, quirking his brow as be buttoned up his tight cargo pants.

"Unfortunately," Theo nodded, strapping his wand-holster to his thigh. "Didn't want to explain myself, really."

"It's Loony Lovegood," Blaise smirked. "I can't imagine her wrath being necessarily formidable."

"It's not," Theo sighed. "It's more … the disappointment. I wasn't in the mood to be subject to that."

"How sweet," Draco drawled, fastening a green strap to his bicep.

"What about you, huh?" Theo retorted, biting back at Draco's sarcasm.

Draco ran his fingers through his silvery hair, his cold eyes fixing on his suddenly brave comrade.

"What about me?" Draco asked coldly.

"When you came out of the Haunted House, Octavia practically bolted out of the Great Hall," Theo explained, stuffing his school uniform into his locker.

"That is hardly unusual behaviour for Octavia," Draco smirked cruelly, slamming his locker door shut. "Particularly in my company."

Blaise followed suit, slamming his own locker door shut, a little louder than intended. His handsome face was contorted into a scowl as he slipped on his Italian leather gloves, flexing his fingers to ensure it fit snugly.

"I suppose you're right," Theo nodded, reclining against the wall of lockers. "It was rather odd, though, that you watched her leave. It almost seemed like you were torn."

"Torn?" Blaise quirked his brow, intently listening to the conversation as he slipped on his other glove. "Between what? Hexing her again for absolutely no reason, or drowning her in the Black Lake for enjoyment?"

Draco's threatening stare met Blaise's, neither faltering as Theo watched the tense interaction with palpable interest.

"Torn between letting her go," Theo drawled, his eyes flickering between his two friends, "and going after her. At least, that's what it looked like."

"Did it?" Draco asked lazily, appearing thoroughly disinterested.

Blaise snatched his boots from the ground, storming over to the benches before he seated himself ungracefully, tugging on his boots with a scowl on his tanned face. The other men followed suit, Draco's grey eyes clouding as he recalled the events of the Haunted House, a surge of victory soaring through his veins. It only made it all the more sweet knowing Blaise's sentiments regarding the delicate topic of Octavia Zabini. So sweet. So delicious.

Vincent Crabbe lumbered over, his burly frame emphasised with the tightness of his black Quidditch gear.

"Some of the Gryffindors are on the stands," Crabbe grumbled.

Draco nodded once as he laced up his boots, not affected by the information in the slightest. It was rather tactical of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team to observe their competitor's practice games. But it wouldn't assist them in beating Draco's team.

What he wished, however, was for his little squib to be on the stands, watching their practice. A ridiculous notion, of course. Octavia loathed the sport with a passion, primarily fuelled by her inability to participate. But it was a nice thought, all the same. Draco would play expertly if she were on the stands, watching him. He would play for her, and he would win for her.

Alas, she never attended the games, nor watched the practice sessions.

Shoving down the flicker of disappointment, Draco righted his gear before standing and snatching his _Firebolt_. He would do what he normally did.

He would pretend his filthy squib watched from the stands, and he would play wonderfully to the thought.

* * *

Sitting at the table in the grand library, Octavia's petite form was barely visible behind the countless stacks of books and tomes that surrounded her. She only had a small space at the table to place her parchment on, scribbling hurriedly as she bit her lip in evident concentration. The majority of her tight curls were tied up in a bun atop her head, but from the sheer exertion of studying relentlessly over the past two hours, loose tendrils had escaped said bun and now hung over her studious face. Her brow furrowed and unfurrowed constantly as she attempted to understand the complexities of her Potions assignment, but was determined to finish it before the sun set and darkness blanketed the sky. Once her potions assignment was complete, she would only have her Care of Magical Creatures essay to work on. She definitely saved the best until last.

Octavia absolutely adored Care of Magical Creatures, the essays relatively simple for her struggling intellect. Perhaps she excelled at the subject due to her undeniable interest with the topic of magical creatures? It was undoubtedly the only topic that she looked forward to studying and attending. She had even gone as far as to create an after-school club in relation to the class.

The 'Caring for Magical Creatures Society' was proving to be rather successful, given the already rare interest in the topic amongst the students. Including Luna and Hermione, her first meeting of the club had an attendance rate of sixteen. More than she had anticipated. However, her expectations were exceeded again, her club now sitting at a solid twenty-two members almost halfway into the school year. Although it still did not compare in the slightest to the other clubs that Hogwarts offered. Alas, she was pleased with the outcome all the same.

Given that the previous weekend was dominated by the highly-anticipated Halloween Ball, all club meetings were cancelled, set to resume the following weekend. But Octavia wasn't exactly prepared, having fallen behind in her studies and been much too distracted by her whorish antics in the Haunted House. Guilt certainly wasn't a factor for Octavia, but she loathed her actions regardless. Not only had she betrayed her boyfriend and now-lover, she did it with none other than Draco Fucking Malfoy. The man who constantly bullied and tormented her. The man who stole forced kisses from her and spat in her face like she was nothing. The man she spread her legs for and came for.

A shudder ran through her body as the thought re-entered her mind. Fuck, she really was repulsive. But she didn't think about that. She shifted the blame onto Draco, refusing to see herself as the offender. She was on inebriating substances that Draco provided her with, and was determined to believe that he had taken advantage of her intoxicated state. Yes. That was it. The justification made her feel just a little better. Of course there was also the issue of those three words that Cedric had spoken.

 _I love you_.

Words that Octavia repeated, but did not mean. It utterly perplexed her. Why didn't she love him? She was capable of it, she knew. Back in her childhood, Octavia undoubtedly loved Draco. A nostalgic trace of her sentiments still lingered within her. A trace that she ignored. But if she could love Draco once upon a time, why didn't she love Cedric?

Cedric was kind and gentle. He treated her like the perfect gentleman and adored her entirely. He was sweet and lovely, never hurting or upsetting her. He received no sick and twisted pleasure from hurting her. He was perfect. Or was he perfect on parchment?

She didn't know.

Emitting a strained groan, Octavia rubbed her ink-stained hands over her face as she slumped in her chair. No matter how hard she tried to focus, her mind would not obey. It constantly served to upset her, finding its way back to thoughts of Cedric and Draco. Her attempts to study were proving rather futile.

Dropping her hands onto her lap, Octavia remained entirely unaware of the ink that now stained her cheeks and upper lip, her hazel eyes focused on the indecipherable scribbles on her parchment. Great. Not only did she have to complete the dreaded essay on the properties of boomslang skin, she would certainly have to rewrite it so that her Professor could read the essay. Wonderful. Just another mundane chore to add to her lengthy list.

With a theatrical whine of self-pity, Octavia leaned over her desk, perched on the edge of her seat, and began to repeatedly bang her head on the desktop. As if the act itself would knock focus and concentration into her chaotic mind. Of course, however, it did not.

"That is hardly going to assist your substandard intellect," Draco drawled, seating himself in the chair across from her.

A pang of hurt shot through her heart at the insult, Octavia slowly lifting her head from the parchment to meet his cold stare. Draco sat across from her, reclining in his chair, appearing stoic as ever as he regarded her. His flattering Quidditch gear was smeared with dirt, traces of the earth on his cruelly handsome face. But it only served to increase his undeniable attractiveness.

This was the first time that she and Draco had spoken since their licentious activities on Saturday, O's cheeks flushing as if on command. The fleeting smirk that graced his pink lips did not go unnoticed by Octavia. But of course he would take pleasure in her embracement, obviously relishing in her conflicted self-hatred and shame. For he had won, had he not? He had tortured and tormented her for almost seven years straight, only to have her on her back, arms and legs spread wide to accept him in the most intimate of ways. Thankfully, however, it was not sex. It was much less than that. The silver lining, she mused bitterly.

"Don't you have kittens to torture or something?" Octavia mumbled, ink staining her pretty face.

Draco quirked his brow, his hand loosely clasped around his shiny new _firebolt_ , evidently having just come from Quidditch practice.

"What do you want, Draco?" Octavia sighed, realising that he was not going to respond to her sharp words.

Again, he didn't respond. He merely regarded her coolly, his eyes lingering over the smudges of ink on her weary expression. Finding that the sight caused him to harden instantly, images of bending her over the desk invading his mind.

Octavia rolled her eyes before beginning to pack up her belongings, now aware that the library was no longer safe for her. She would return to the Head Dormitories and study in peace with her two friends. Perhaps Hermione may even assist her with the potions assignment? She hoped so.

Draco watched her stuff book and book into her already heavy schoolbag. The schoolbag that was crafted from the most expensive faux leather in all of the Wizarding World. The schoolbag that he purchased for her on her sixteenth birthday, knowing that she loathed real leather and the cruelty it was made from.

The squib stood from her chair with an annoyed expression, swinging her bag over her shoulder as Draco remained seated.

"Why do you never attend the Quidditch games?" Draco asked after minutes of silence, just before she made to leave.

"What?" Octavia frowned, eyeing him with exhaustion and frustration.

"You never attend the games," Draco said, his tone void of its usual iciness.

"I don't like Quidditch," Octavia frowned. "You know that."

And he did know that. So why Draco was questioning her about the topic completely baffled Octavia.

"You should come to the game on Saturday," Draco said, his tone … soft? No. Surely not.

"I have better things to do," Octavia snapped, turning on her heels and stalking off.

Draco remained perfectly stoic as she left, leaving him sitting alone at the small desk. His impassive grey eyes watched her go, fixed on the tied mess of curls atop her head. Watching as the loose tendrils bounced with each step she took.

Clenching his jaw, Draco rose from the chair before strolling over to the seat she previously occupied. He quickly spotted what he was searching for, lifting a single strand of curly hair from the seat before pocketing it.

If their interaction was anything to go by, Draco would be spending some more time that he originally thought entertaining a pseudo version of the squib. Alas, he was hardly a patient man. So he would spend further time with the polyjuiced body of Octavia, rather than the real thing. A temporary situation.

Very temporary, he hoped.

* * *

Draco removed the small vial from his bedside cabinet, Lavender standing behind him as she discreetly pinched her lips to create a fuller and rosier effect. It didn't matter, however. Her appearance was soon to be another's. For Draco had slipped a single strand of blonde curly hair from his pocket and stuffed it into the vial before shaking the small bottle vigorously. Like he had on many occasions prior. The potion turned purple fleetingly, alerting Draco of its success. Satisfied, he turned to face Lavender and handed her the small vial.

He watched as she eyed it with disdain for a moment before she sighed and tossed back the liquid. Such a fool. Lavender was under the impression that the potion created a 'pure' effect on her body, serving to tighten her cunt and recreating her long lost virginity.

Draco smirked as stepped toward her, his fingers grazing across the waistline of her school skirt gently before trailing up, over her shirt, to her collarbone. All the while, Lavender's body and face began to morph. His grey eyes remained fixed on her slightly vexed blue orbs as his fingers delicately removed her Gryffindor tie. He smirked playfully, causing Lavender to blush as her features transformed, gripping the tie that was now in his hands, and moving it up to her face.

Her hesitance was evident as she opened her mouth to speak, but she relented and remained quiet. Draco used the tie to blindfold the stupid bint to prevent her from noticing her unfamiliar body, like he had over and over again. But, of course, she merely assumed that the blindfolding was just Draco being kinky.

She didn't argue as he gripped her now-slimmer waist and manoeuvred her onto his bed. Draco had expected her lack of resistance. He knew that the whore would do anything to keep his interest for a while longer, despite her peaked suspicions. And, ever the Slytherin, he used that to his full advantage.

"Kiss me," Lavender whispered, licking her full lips as she lay on the bed.

Draco almost cringed at the sound of her voice escaping sweet lips that did not belong to her. The sweet, plump lips that belonged to Octavia. Lips that he couldn't tear his eyes from.

Ignoring Lavender's request, Draco crawled on top of the witch, his eyes drinking in every bit of her appearance. Every bit of skin that was visible to his eyes. Every strand of blonde curly hair that framed her exceptionally pretty face. Her pink, plump lips. Her rosy cheeks. Her perfectly sculpted brows. Her little upturned nose.

But he really wished to remove the blindfold and gaze at her big hazel doe-eyes. If only for a moment. But he couldn't. It was too risky, and he had to keep Lavender as in the dark as possible.

It wouldn't serve him for her to learn of her altered appearance. The last thing he wanted was for the rest of Hogwarts to act as a grapevine and trickle the news back to the squib herself. She did not need to know that he lusted after her daily, to the point where he used polyjuice potion on another to satiate his desire. He knew Octavia thoroughly, and he knew that if she discovered this act, she would connect the dots a lot sooner. Much sooner than what served him.

He did not want her to discover his true sentiments toward her prematurely. It would delay and hinder his plans to have her. Timing was everything in this delicate situation. He had to allow her time to transition.

Draco didn't scold himself for using the polyjuice potion on Lavender to create the image of Octavia in his bed. He felt no guilt whatsoever. He only felt a burning need to conquer her body, and his only current option was an artificial version of the girl he craved; mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Draco would hardly consider himself to be a patient man, so he wasted no time in removing Lavender's clothes with a flick of his hand, revealing the marvellous body of another. His lust-filled grey eyes scanned every inch of the body that lay before him, moving to kneel before the spread legs. He didn't know where to look. So he looked everywhere. Drinking in the splendour of beauty before him.

Her breasts weren't particularly large, but what they lacked in size, they made up for in perkiness. The ample breasts were soft to the touch, and the pink nipples were firm and tight.

His hands gently massaged the plump mounds, occasionally tweaking the perfect little nipples as his cock strained desperately against his trousers. Trailing his hands down her body slowly, Draco relished in the smooth milky skin at his fingertips. Her tummy, while flat, was not toned or firm. It was soft, creamy and feminine. Beautiful.

Finally, he reached his desired destination. The gap between her spread legs, which used to feature a small nest of blonde curls. He had never seen that before his first polyjuiced encounter with her body; blonde pubic hair. He found he quite liked it, given the incessant twitching of his cock as he gazed longingly at the curls during his previous interactions.

In his extensive experience, he learned that most sexually inclined girls at Hogwarts were fans of removing pubic hair. As was he, in all honesty. He didn't particularly mind the natural hair, but he was far more appreciative of a groomed cunt. But now, it seemed Octavia shared his preference. The once neatly haired area was now completely bare and smooth to the touch. How odd. Although he was far too distracted by the powerful surge of desire that coursed through him at the sight to give it much thought.

Draco flicked his hand, silk ribbons appearing out of nowhere, wrapping around Lavender's wrists and binding them together above her head. The Gryffindor girl bit her lip in anticipation, her excitement evident in her weak squirms.

Draco swiftly plunged his finger into her tight cunt, successfully entering the slick heaven of the polyjuiced bint as she gasped.

The usual routine of foreplay he performed with her went disregarded. The perfectly groomed cunt before him had him in a lust-fuelled frenzy. So he pulled his wet finger from her core, and waved his hand, removing the Quidditch gear from his body before he swiftly positioned his weeping cock at the soaked entrance.

With one forceful thrust deep inside of her, Draco found himself frozen above the frowning witch. Both entirely shocked and confused at the lack of resistance he was met with. For his initial thrusts after the bint drank the potion normally restored her hymen. But this time … there was no such thing within the sweet cunt he stretched and filled completely.

Draco's eyes hardened suddenly, realisation washing over him in crippling waves of despair and rage.

That fucking whore of a filthy squib had betrayed him. She had done what the voice in the Haunted House had warned. She had allowed another to touch her. To take what was rightfully his.

And the consequences would be dire, indeed. For Draco was utterly consumed with murderous rage.

Octavia Zabini had no idea what was coming to her.


	24. Chapter 24

Octavia wandered the Slytherin dungeons during her free-period, the emptiness of the dank corridors providing a sense of eeriness. Even though Octavia was a Slytherin to her core, she much preferred bright corridors, like those in the Ravenclaw Wing of the castle. Her preferred colours were purple and silver, contrasting greatly with the darker shades that most other Slytherins favoured. So the creepiness of the empty corridors put Octavia a little on edge, despite the fact that most other Slytherins would be entirely unaffected.

Octavia stopped at the door that would lead to her destination, swiftly turning the handle and pulling it open with a haunting creak. A sigh of relief escaped her plump lips as she spotted her intended target, tottering into the room that appeared to have once served as an actual dungeon. In her father's day, students of Hogwarts were punished in the dungeons for wrongdoings, sometimes hung up on the wall by their ankles for hours on end. Thankfully, however, those punishments were no longer deemed appropriate by the school board.

"Mr. Bloody Baron?" Octavia addressed timidly, approaching the floating silvery apparition. "Can I please speak with you, if you have a moment?"

"I have more than moment, little squib," the Bloody Baron responded, his haunting voice echoing off the mossy walls. "I have an eternity."

"Right," Octavia smiled weakly, opting not to take offense to his use of the derogatory word. He was, after all, an ancient ghost; one that possessed no understanding of political correctness in the modern day and age.

"I need not ask the topic of discussion you wish to present to me," the ghost drawled eerily, floating toward her as she regarded him curiously. He knew what she wanted to ask? How strange. "My only advice to you is to exercise caution, and submit when the time comes."

"Submit?" Octavia repeated, her nose scrunched up as she tilted her head.

"Should you reject the inevitable, I do not doubt that you will share the same fate of my own love."

"Uh huh," Octavia nodded, pretending that she understood perfectly. "Thanks for that. Anyways, would you mind if I had you as a key speaker at my club?"

"Pardon?" The Bloody Baron asked with raised brows.

"My club," Octavia explained excitedly. "It's the 'Caring for Magical Creatures Society', and I would really like to have a ghost come as a guest. I think it would be really cool to learn more about your kind 'cause we don't study non-beings that much in class. You're really interesting and so is your story, so it would be nice if you came."

"You may learn of my _story_ in books, Miss Zabini," the Bloody Baron countered, regarding her curiously. "Is that what you wished to discuss with me?"

"Yeah," Octavia nodded. "I know that your story is in books, but they're all in the Restricted Section. Anyways, it would be more fun this way. I'd really appreciate it, Sir."

"I accept your invitation," the Bloody Baron drawled, seemingly disinterested.

"Great," Octavia beamed, oblivious to the curious gaze of the ghost. "It's Sunday at three o'clock by Professor Hagrid's hut."

"I will see you then," the ghost bowed, his chains clanging with the respectful movement.

"Gooday, Sir." Octavia sang as she curtseyed, following the proper gestures of their society.

Octavia could barely keep the gleeful grin from her face as she turned and skipped happily out of the dank room.

* * *

Despite the raw rage clouding his silver eyes, Professor Slughorn beckoned for Draco to approach the front of the class in order to encounter the Boggart. Draco had successfully evaded his inevitable interaction with the mysterious creature for weeks, but found that he was still just as reluctant as before. His jaw clenched tightly as he kicked himself from the wall, striding over to the shaking closet which held the Boggart, his grey eyes alight with murderous fury.

Draco was not enraged at the prospect of facing the Boggart. He was completely irate at the realisation that struck him four nights prior. For four nights, he lived with the horrendous knowledge that Octavia had given her body to another, and for four nights, Draco schemed his revenge. He deserved revenge, did he not? Of course he did. Her body belonged to him. _She_ belonged to him. And she completely betrayed and disrespected him in her whorish actions, therefore deserved the wrath she would soon face.

The consequences that she would be met with that weekend. It had to be the weekend. He had to ensure that her punishment was sufficient and that nobody would find her for a day.

Draco's only regret was that he had purchased and sent her presents the morning following the Halloween Ball, rewarding her anonymously for her acceptance of him.

No matter. The filthy whore would be punished soon enough.

"Wand at the ready, Mr Malfoy." Slughorn ordered jovially, eagerly awaiting his top-student's encounter with the Boggart.

Draco slipped his wand out of his trouser pocket as he approached the clattering closet, despite not requiring his wand to produce the required defence spell. Generally, his wand served as an accessory, as opposed to an instrument of channelling magical.

"Ready?" Professor Slughorn asked, his chubby and blotchy hand gripping the doorhandle to the closet.

Draco inclined his head once, most students – particularly the Slytherins – watching with undiluted interest. It was valuable information to the Slytherins, indeed. To know of the Slytherin Prince's ultimate fear. Priceless information to possess.

This was the very thing that Draco wished to avoid at all costs. No Malfoy should fear anything, but Draco did. He knew his deepest fear, yet he refused to face it within himself. Alas, there were no other options. He would have to be quick in defeating the Boggart, lest the others catch a glimpse of his fear.

That was the difficult part, however. For his mind was still grasping at possible spells to use in defence. There was no specific spell to defeat a Boggart; each possible spell different for each witch and wizard. But he had to think of one, and fast. For Professor Slughorn was already turning the handle of the closet, Draco's inevitable encounter with the Boggart nearing closer by the second.

Suddenly, Slughorn yanked the door to the closet open, a whirling apparition flying out of the confined space and stopping a metre in front of a tense Draco. The Boggart whirled and twirled in the air, creating a colourful blur as the observing Slytherins approached steadily. Most other students – predominantly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs – sat on the tables at the far end of the classroom, seemingly disinterested in the encounter, more focused on chatting amongst themselves. But a handful of Ravenclaws watched intently, along with the majority of Slytherins.

A thick silence draped over the observers at the image the Boggart settled on, even the Professor watching attentively.

Octavia Zabini stood before Draco, her skin sickly pale, her lips void of its usual pink, her cheeks no longer rosy. But her eyes remained the same; a bright and sparkling hazel, filled with adoration and pure love as she turned slowly and looked up at the faceless man beside her.

" _I love you_ ," Octavia whispered to the faceless man, melting into his embrace.

Slowly, her face turned back to a frozen Draco, her eyes swarming with darkness as they filled with pure and utter hatred. Her upper lip curled, her eyes now black entirely as she met his stare.

" _I hate you_ ," Octavia snarled, in the arms of another. " _I will never love you, Draco. No one could ever love you. Not even a filthy squib, like me. That is how little your worth is. You are nothing to me._ "

 _"_ _Bullarum!"_ Draco shouted, aiming his wand directly at the faux Octavia.

At the sound of his shout, all previously disinterested students turned their attention to the scene, bursting into laughter as Octavia stood alone, hiccupping a constant stream of bubbles as she turned purple. Bubbles swelled and popped and floated from her ears, nose, mouth and even her eyes. The girl was barely visible behind the curtains of multi-coloured bubbles, only the cute sounds of her hiccups and burps ringing through the classroom, almost drowned out by the laughter.

But the Slytherins were not laughing. In fact, they were all silent as they watched Draco turn and stroll away from the Boggart to join Blaise and Theo by the window. Draco's expression remained perfectly stoic and composed, despite his heart clenching and shredding within him, only accompanied by the familiar and welcome rage that coursed through his veins.

"Ahem," Professor Slughorn cleared his throat, his wide eyes tearing from an indifferent Draco Malfoy. "Blaise Zabini! You're up, boy!"

"No." Blaise refused, his tone firm.

Slughorn frowned, taken aback momentarily before clearing his throat again.

"Mr. Zabini," Slughorn responded loudly, attempting to sound assertive. "Are you willing to fail the lesson? This counts toward your overall practical grade."

Blaise clenched his jaw, his darkened eyes meeting the stare of his Professor, refusing point blank to participate in the lesson. Blaise could not afford to encounter the Boggart. He did not know exactly what it would transform into, but he was aware of a deep-rooted fear that he harboured. And it would be simply catastrophic for the student body to catch wind of such a situation. So he refused, willing to damage his impeccable grades in the process.

"Right then," Slughorn stammered, evidently aggravated. "Theodore Nott."

Theo heaved a heavy sigh before kicking himself from the wall and sauntering over to the Boggart, still in the form of Octavia, her identity concealed by a mass of bubbles.

Raising his wand, Theo remained indifferent as the Boggart again whirled mid-air, ascertaining Theo's deepest fear and dread. The discovery was considerably less sinister that Draco's to be sure.

The Boggart twirled a few times more before taking the shape of two figures; Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass, both dressed in wedding attire. The wedding gown was a blur, no details visible to the eye. Perhaps due to Theo's lack of caring regarding his upcoming nuptials with the girl he cared naught for. But the two betrothed were chained together entirely.

Lazily, Theo flicked his wand at the groom and bride, swapping the attire between the two faux persons. The students erupted into raucous laughter at the sight they were now faced with; fashionista Daphne Greengrass clad in an oversized suit, her body drowned out by the long and wide robes that adorned her. Theodore Nott, however, now stood in a frilly wedding dress, diamond encrusted clasps scattering his hair.

Snickering at his own expense, Theo tucked his wand into his pocket before turning and strolling back to his comrades, students laughing and pointing at the confused Theo and Daphne.

Despite the now joyous environment of the class, Theo instantly fell into a silence when he approached his friends. Blaise and Draco reclined against the wall, neither speaking, the tense atmosphere radiating around them. Theo had no idea what had gone on between the two best-friends, but he knew that it was hardly good. And his suspicions were peaked after witnessing Draco's Boggart in the form of a hateful Octavia, happy with another. The squib evidently welcoming another man– a faceless man. Draco's greatest fear now known to all of the Slytherins in class.

Regardless, no one could use the information against Draco. For to do so, would be to stand up to his power. A losing battle in itself.

* * *

Octavia giggled brilliantly as Cedric licked the base of her neck, tickling her skin delightfully. She sat on his desk, having stayed behind after class to discuss her assignment. The discussion was going quite well, in Octavia's opinion.

Alas, there was not nearly enough time to continue in their wicked ministrations with one another, for lunch was soon to begin. So they multi-tasked; tasting and teasing one another, while discussing her recently submitted essay.

"I have to grade it fairly," Cedric spoke huskily, relishing in the sweet taste of her smooth skin, ". It's … not a great submission, O."

"You're going to fail me?" Octavia frowned, squirming out of his hold as she slipped off the desk. "Are you serious?"

"An Acceptable," Cedric sighed, meeting her incredulous stare. "That's the best I can do."

Octavia wanted to punch him in the dick, but knew that it was best to switch tactics. She would have her stupid Hufflepuff boyfriend wrapped around her finger in a matter of minutes.

"What about all the … extra-credit stuff I've been doing?" Octavia purred, her fingers trailing down his shirt-clad chest seductively.

Cedric's eyes fluttered shut, melting into her soft caresses, his hands placed on the desk, trapping her against it.

"I would think that all my hard work," Octavia whispered, her fingers travelling further down to the bulge in his pants, "would earn me a higher grade, wouldn't you agree?"

"I …" Cedric frowned, evidently unable to string words together.

Octavia grinned wickedly, her fingers now shamelessly stroking the tense bulge in his trousers.

"Yes, Professor?" Octavia purred, gripping his erection through the material.

"It … doesn't work … like that," Cedric managed to choke out, a delightful shudder running through his body.

"Doesn't it?" Octavia asked innocently, massaging his cock through his pants. "I would think I've been working so hard to please you, Sir. I've been good, haven't I?"

"Your essay," Cedric groaned, his cock twitching eagerly against its restraints. "It wasn't even finished, O. It's only half-done."

"Then grade me on all my extra work," Octavia whispered, shoving him backwards onto the chair.

Cedric grunted as he fell onto the chair, his legs spread and she dropped onto her knees in front of him. He watched, completely under her seductive spell, as Octavia's slender fingers slowly unbuttoned his trousers and slid down the zip, never breaking eye-contact with him.

"Grade me on this," Octavia smiled deviously, gripping his now-free cock in her hand. "I work so hard, Professor. Don't you want me to make you happy? I'm such a good teacher's pet."

Cedric's breath hitched, pre-cum weeping out of the tip of his rigid shaft, his mouth agape as he stared down at his student. The student he loved, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

She kept his cock in her grip, but did not move. She merely looked up at him innocently, her hazel eyes sparkling with undetected mischief. Cedric groaned, his hands clasped onto the arms of the chair, his fingers digging into the wood in anticipation.

"What do you think, Sir?" Octavia whispered innocently, gazing up at him.

"I think," Cedric frowned, debating internally at the clouded proposition. "I think … that you are correct, Miss Zabini. It is only fair that I reward your efforts."

Octavia bit her lip, attempting to prevent the triumphant grin from gracing her features. It was almost too easy.

Her tongue flicked out, licking the white fluid from the tip of his shaft, keeping her eyes locked onto his as she did so. She puckered her plump lips and kissed the tip of his cock gently, fighting a smirk as he moaned above her. She parted her lips and kissed him again, her tongue flicking across the split that leaked pre-cum. She felt him shudder slightly, his breath hitching.

"No more stalling, Miss Zabini," Cedric groaned, his hooded eyes staring down at her with palpable lust.

Octavia smiled before she parted her lips further, slowly bringing her warm mouth down on his engorged cock. She kept her eyes trained on his as she sucked deeply, her tongue swirling around the underside of his shaft. He thrust upwards, further into her mouth, Octavia sucking and bobbing her head. She had never done this before, but she spent a considerable amount of time researching it. For she was definitely not ready to have sex with him again, due to her fear of the pain. So this was her wicked compromise, hopefully deflecting his focus from her cunt.

Cedric began to thrust his hips upwards, keeping her pace, his cock travelling deeper down her throat with each thrust. She coughed and gagged but neither stopped. She could feel his cock shiver in her mouth, feeling the orgasm he was fighting off. She winked at him as she palmed his balls gently, massaging them in her hand.

"Fuck," Cedric groaned above her as he watched his student and lover suck him hungrily. The wink sent him over the edge, losing all control.

His head slammed back, his grip on the chair arms tightening impossibly as his cock jerked in her mouth, cum spilling out of him. He thrust himself deep into her throat, Octavia gulping as she swallowed his seed.

Cedric's body tensed as he shouted her name, his girlfriend never ceasing her ministrations on his cock. He shuddered and moaned as the last of his orgasm dissipated, and he slumped in the chair, utterly spent.

Octavia released his cock from her mouth with a _pop!_ , watching it in pure fascination as it decreased in size and fell limp.

"Outstanding," Cedric whispered, slumped in the chair, his eyes shut as the pleasure slowly dissipated from his body.

"Thank you, Professor," Octavia grinned, jumping up from the ground and standing before an exhausted Cedric.

Cedric laughed as he opened his eyes, relishing in the glee that radiated from her slender body. Octavia smiled, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his cheek before righting herself.

"I'll see you at lunch," O winked playfully.

Cedric nodded, watching as she turned on her heels and practically skipped through the classroom to the exit.

"Miss Zabini?" Cedric called, zipping up his trousers.

"Yes, Sir?" Octavia turned to face him.

"My door is always open, should you require," Cedric grinned, Octavia biting her lip in response.

"Thank you, Professor." Octavia giggled, turning and exiting the office.

A wicked glint in her eyes, a devious grin on her face.

Triumph etched onto her smug expression.

Hufflepuffs were all too easy to manipulate.

* * *

Hermione hated Thursdays. Thursdays were by far her least favourite day. Not because of her crammed class schedule. Not because an average of six assignments were due the following day. No. None of that mattered to Hermione. She faced no challenges with that.

It was all down to her patrol schedule.

On Thursdays, Hermione was rostered to patrol the castle with the Head Boy during the lunch hour. So each Thursday, Hermione stuffed food down her throat in the Great Hall, in the small space of ten minutes, before meeting the Head Boy in the foyer.

She couldn't lie to herself, however. There were a few Thursdays that she almost looked forward to. For at times, she and Blaise got along quite well. But today was not one of those times.

Blaise had yet to speak or even look at her since the weekend that had just passed. The last words he spoke to her were drenched with disinterest as he abandoned her at the Halloween Ball the Saturday passed.

So Hermione stood huffily in the centre of the foyer, repeatedly checking her watch to constantly assess just how late the Head Boy was to meet her. At present, his time of tardiness sat at thirteen minutes. It simply infuriated her.

Blaise was late on occasion, due to his general nonchalance. But never this late. Their patrol was now cut down to thirty-seven minutes, meaning that they would hardly be able to check all required spaces around the castle in order to catch canoodling students. Of course, Blaise hardly cared about that. For he was usually one of the canoodling students.

Except of late …

Hermione, during her patrols with Prefects or solo, had not found Blaise in a broom closet or alcove in quite some time. Nor had there been any random female students in and out of the Head dormitories.

Perhaps he was going to their dorms, now? Perhaps he was no longer interested in random girls? Perhaps he wanted Hermione? She didn't know.

At times, Hermione was certain that he desired her. That he lusted after her, intellectually as well as physically. But those moments were fleeting. Uncertain. Confusing. For they would go as quickly as they came.

The Halloween Ball was the prime example of his fickleness toward her. He was adamant that he would be her escort for the festivities, ensuring that she had an enjoyable night with him. He waited on her, providing her refreshments and punch continuously. He escorted her into the Haunted House, even though she ventured there with her friends. He was the perfect date, on parchment.

But only on parchment. For, at the end of the night, he abandoned her in the Great Hall. His Head Boy duties demanded that he stay until the Ball was over. His responsibility was to stay and clean up, pay the entertainment and assist the Head Girl in the same duties. Yet, he obviously cared naught about such things. For he had left her, quite rudely so, alone at the Ball and dateless. Hermione, though exhausted, had to stay behind and perform the workload of two people alone. She had practically spent the entire Sunday catching up on deprived sleep, carrying out her patrols and writing her essays.

Not a glimpse of Blaise was seen that day, despite the two sharing quarters. She had seen him over the days following, particularly in shared classes. But they hadn't spoke, and Blaise appeared to not even notice her existence. He hadn't even glanced at her.

As much as she denied it to herself, Hermione felt a pang in her heart at the thought of his treatment of her. Her night with him at the Halloween Ball had been enjoyable overall. Excluding his abrupt departure, that is. Hermione had recognised her feelings for him that night, thereby accepting them. Allowing her the possibility to accept him in a steadier romantic relationship, if it went there. But it seemed that Blaise did not share her sentiments.

A part of Hermione wondered if he had only escorted her to the Ball in order to upset his sister. There had been quite a bit of tension between the Zabini twins that night, Hermione completely oblivious of the reason. Perhaps that was it? Hermione was merely used as a tool in Blaise's minor revenge scheme on his sister? The mere thought caused righteous anger to burn inside of her, her eyes burning with the tears of rage and hurt.

Why should she care? Blaise was not worth her thought or attention. He was not worth anything of value. Only wealth. But wealth obviously did not buy a conscience. So fuck him. Hermione would pay the matter no further thought.

At least, she hoped not.

Heaving a weary sigh, Hermione checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Eighteen minutes.

Deciding that she would waste not another second on the despicable excuse for a Head Boy, Hermione turned and stormed up the central staircase. She would conduct her patrol alone, it seemed.

Hermione held her head high as she stomped up the stairs, ignoring the flicker of disappointment within her. She pretended that a part of her had not hoped to patrol with Blaise, thereby forcing him to acknowledge her existence.

She pretended that her heart didn't ache horridly.

* * *

After a long day of classes, Octavia relished in the solitude that her empty dormitory provided her with. Sitting cross-legged on her lush bed, Octavia could barely conceal the pure excitement that shone brilliantly in her big hazel eyes. A cluster of parcels was stacked on the end of her bed, all wrapped in shiny purple wrapping paper, tied together with one large silver and glittering ribbon.

Months ago, Octavia had received a parcel gift-wrapped the same way. It had possessed a replacement to the lilac dress made of nymph-hair that Draco had ruined in _The Three Broomsticks_. Octavia knew that the parcels were not from her mother, so she had merely assumed that the sender's anonymous identity would remain untold. A secret admirer, perhaps?

Regardless, she hardly cared about the sender in that moment. She was far too excited by finding the parcels on her bed upon returning to her dormitory, and now, eagerly grabbed the parcels and tore the wrappings apart. No one was watching, so she exercised no ladylike patience, and shredded the wrapping paper with excited vigour.

A squeal of glee escaped her pink lips as she revealed the first present; a gorgeous pair of light pink t-bar heels. Very proper shoes, but absolutely gorgeous too. The red-bottomed underside of the heels suggested that they were purchased from the muggle world, created by the same designer of her school shoes; Christian Louboutin. She didn't even try them on, however. For her fickle attention swiftly transferred to the second parcel, ripping it apart to identify its contents. Octavia clapped her hands together in delight as she was faced with a diamond encrusted pair of formal heels. The strappy ivory heels were simply divine, and certainly cost a pretty galleon. Perhaps several thousand galleons, she mused, as she inspected the expensive pair of heels with undiluted awe and adoration.

Hazel eyes sparkled brilliantly as she placed the heels back into its parcel with great care before snatching the third and final parcel. Her heart fluttered delightfully as she tore apart the wrapping paper, entirely excited to reveal her final lavish gift.

Oh. Merlin.

Octavia gaped at the lace dress within the open box, her brows raised as she delicately lifted the garment and gazed at it in awe. The dress was familiar, as she had gushed over it at the Milan Witchwear Fashion Parade the summer before school commenced. However, the dress was not to be available for purchase for at least another three months. It was incredibly expensive, costing sixty thousand galleons, and crafted from the naturally shed tail hair of unicorns. As unicorns only shed their tail hair every three years, it was evidently a rare material, only used by the most respected designers in the Wizarding World.

No matter how many tantrums and tears she feigned, Octavia found herself unable to acquire the dress she now held delicately in her hands. The dress was knee-length, a lace bodice and sleeves adoring its beauty. But the shoulders were visible of the wearer, making it a modern twist on formal attire. Formal enough to attend upscale restaurants around the world, but not nearly traditional enough to wear at Balls or Banquets. It was simply exquisite, and Octavia was reminded of a muggle phrase; 'love at first sight'.

Gently, Octavia folded the dress in half before carefully placing it back into its box. She would have no opportunity to wear the dress during the remainder of the semester, so would have Pinky – her house-elf – collect it over the weekend and place it in her second bedroom at the Manor. The second bedroom that was essentially an incredibly large and overfilled closet. Octavia decided instantly; she would wear this dress and the diamond heels to dinner in the South of France over the Christmas Break.

It was an unofficial tradition, of sorts, for the close-knit group of pureblood families to spend the second night of the Christmas Break at the Parkinson's vineyard in the South of France. The families in attendance were the Malfoys, Zabinis, Notts, Puceys, Greengrasses, and, of course, the Parkinsons. Octavia now had a reason to look forward to the usually dreaded get-together; she would have the opportunity to wear this unavailable dress, rubbing it in the other girls' faces.

Smiling in a daze of pure bliss, Octavia stacked the boxes of gifts and gazed at them admiringly. She would have to store the parcels in Hermione's private bedroom, lest they get destroyed by Millie's frequent wrath of jealousy. And Octavia would simply die if anything happened to her presents, especially her exquisite dress.

Octavia bit her lip as she climbed off the bed and slipped on her Mary-Jane heels and cardigan. Now was as good a time as any to ensure the safety of her precious gifts.

* * *

Hermione stepped down the stone staircase, spotting Blaise in the common room instantly. She had prematurely departed her bedroom amidst her assignment chaos in pursuit of a hot cup of tea before dinner. Hermione could not pretend to unsurprised at the presence of the Head Boy in their shared space, Blaise lounging on the sofa as he wrote elegantly onto an evidently expensive sheet of pure white parchment. His long black quill did not cease in its movements, the Head Boy either not noticing her arrival, or choosing to ignore it. Probably the latter, she mused bitterly.

Perhaps if Hermione knew the reason for his sudden cold treatment of her, she would feel a little less jilted. Alas, she would never know, for it seemed that Blaise intended on continuing his snubbing of her, let alone offer her an explanation.

Being the girl she was, however, Hermione struggled to bite her tongue as she marched passed the living area toward the kitchen, feeling the heat of the roaring fireplace on her skin as she went. Or was it the heat of her rising anger? She didn't know.

Making a point of her presence in the room, Hermione reached the kitchenette and swung open a cabinet door with great force, snatching a mug from the shelf and slamming it down on the kitchen counter. She didn't turn around to see if Blaise had shifted his attention to her, for she knew that he hadn't. The sound of his expensive quill scratching against his costly parchment still sounded out, Hermione scowling as she banged the teapot onto the stove. Waving her wand, a little harsher than intended, Hermione caused flames to erupt beneath the teapot, her narrowed eyes watching as the fire engulfed the base of the kitchen contraption.

Still, his quill continued to scratch annoyingly so, Hermione bristling at the otherwise silent room. She just wanted to him acknowledge her existence. To offer an explanation and an apology. It seemed to be too much to ask, however.

Once the teapot began to whistle, Hermione blew out the flames and set to preparing her tea in silence. Again, she made a show of her irritation and presence, slamming cupboard doors shut loudly and clanging the kettle around the kitchen.

"Do you mind?" Blaise drawled icily, turning around on the sofa to glower at the Head Girl. "It is rather distracting."

"Oh?" Hermione gasped in feigned shock as she turned to face him. "I'm distracting you? Silly me- I thought I was invisible."

Blaise's lips twitched, Hermione suspecting that he was resisting the urge to smile. Or smirk. Probably smirk. But it was gone before she could be sure.

Blaise stared coolly at her, his face like stone and eyes like the abyss of dreadful darkness. If she weren't so brave, she may have shivered a little. But she was brave, and quirked her brow in response as she returned his icy stare.

"You are hardly invisible," Blaise drawled coldly, returning his gaze to the parchment on his lap. "Merely insignificant."

"Excuse me?" Hermione snarled, brown eyes alighting with indignation and offense.

"You are insignificant," Blaise repeated lazily, evidently disinterested. "But not invisible. Like a servant, if you will. There, but ignored."

"How dare you?" Hermione seethed, her curls growing slightly as her fists clenched at her sides. "You didn't seem to think I was so _insignificant_ when you practically begged me to go to the Ball with you!"

"Begged?" Blaise laughed emptily as he resumed writing on the parchment. " _Coerced_ would be more appropriate, no? And how easy it was to coerce you, mudblood."

Hermione's eyes widened at his use of the racial slur, turning and grabbing her boiling hot tea before throwing it across the room at him. Blaise flicked his hand lazily before the scalding liquid could burn him, the liquid turning to dust from the spell and dropping onto the stone floor.

Blaise sighed as he placed the quill and parchment on the sofa before standing and facing the fuming muggle-born.

"I never would have thought you to be so foolish, Granger." Blaise spoke dryly. "To get so attached after one meaningless 'date' is quite the opposite of what I expected, if I'm honest. But since you appear to have misunderstood my intentions, allow me to enlighten you."

Hermione's jaw clenched tightly as he leisurely strolled around the sofa toward the kitchenette, her body tense with fury and her heart aching with hurt.

"I am not interested in you," Blaise stated slowly, as though he were speaking to a child. "You were merely a victim of a scheme, and nothing more."

"To get back at O?" Hermione spat venomously. "Is that it?"

"Indeed," Blaise smirked cruelly. "And you were an all too willing victim, weren't you? So easily fooled like the Gryffindor you are."

Hermione's hand shot up, aimed to slap him right across the cheek. But before she could connect with the Italian scumbag, his own hand shot up and grabbed her wrist, yanking her against him as he sneered down at her.

"Foolish little lioness," Blaise purred, Hermione using all her might to resist the tears burning in her pained eyes.

A violent knock sounded at the common room door, Blaise releasing his hold on her wrist instantly. He winked at the furious and anguished muggle-born before strolling back to the sofa and reseating himself.

"Answer the door like the servant you are," Blaise drawled, not even glancing at the teary-eyed Head Girl.

Hermione's face scrunched up in anguish as she turned and stormed back to her bedroom, the knock at the door going ignored. It was the least of her concerns in that moment. She just had to escape before the tears and sobs took hold of her.

She only just made it to her bedroom before she fell to her knees and choked out the sobs that now wracked her body.

* * *

Blaise flinched as Granger's bedroom door slammed shut, but not before he heard the wretched sob echo throughout the room. His heart plummeted to his stomach, tossing the parchment and quill away from him as he buried his face into his hands, resisting the urge to go after her. He had to let her go and despise him.

The letter from his father had warned him off any further interactions with the muggle-born, Draco evidently having snitched on him.

At first, however, Blaise grew cold with Granger due to his anger from the fight in the Haunted House. His thoughts, that night, were solely focused on Draco and his progress with his sister. A terrible thing to occur. For he knew that Draco was currently in negotiations with his father on Octavia's contract. And Blaise could do nothing about it.

So his distance with Granger was primarily in regards to his own private life and chaos. It was not to do with her, at first. Perhaps he should have treated her better, but Blaise was not that man. When he was troubled or upset, he withdrew. It was his way.

It wasn't until the letter he received, on Monday at breakfast, that Blaise intentionally treated Granger with coldness and disrespect. His father was most displeased to learn of his date for the Halloween Ball, taking it upon himself to threaten a transfer to Durmstrang Academy for Wizards. Blaise could not allow that to happen.

Not only would the school transfer interrupt his academia and achievements, it would remove him from the vicinity of his sister. He had to be near her to ensure her safety. While Blaise could not out-rightly go against Draco, he had taken measures to protect her. Theo remained silent about her blossoming relationship with Cedric Diggory at Blaise's request, thereby concealing the information from Draco. It wasn't much, Blaise knew this. But to Octavia, it was everything. For if Draco learned of her secret relationship, Octavia was sure to pay the price. Particularly if Draco's Boggart encounter was anything to go by.

On top of that, as the Zabini heir, Blaise was set to marry Pansy Parkinson in eight months and, thereby, take over her family's empire in the future. The merging of two powerful units, resting on his shoulders. It was to be his primary focus, and his father would be outraged if it was threatened by his feelings for another girl. Another girl with muggle blood.

It was best to hurt Granger irreparably now, as opposed to breaking her completely at the end of the year. Octavia had been right when she confronted him at the Halloween Ball, questioning his reasoning for entertaining a relationship with Hermione. For it would only hurt Granger in the long-run. Much more than he hurt her mere moments ago.

The 'knock' – more like a brutal banging – sounded out again, hurling a pensive Blaise from his thoughts. He muttered under his breath as he rose from the sofa, deciding that he would be unable to complete the letter to his father before the end of the day. Not if he was constantly interrupted.

Storming over to the door, Blaise scowled as he shoved the portrait open, his sister standing in the corridor, almost concealed by the stack of boxes she held against her. Hazel eyes peeked over the boxes at her brother, narrowing instantly.

"Move, _Stronzo_!" Octavia sassed, barging passed him and entering the common room.

"Well, come on in." Blaise drawled sarcastically, his sister paying him no attention. "And, by all means, kick the portrait door whenever you please."

Octavia tottered toward the staircase that led to her best-friend's bedroom, completely ignoring her brother as he shut the door and strolled back over to the sofa.

"Ninny!" Octavia sang, kicking the bedroom door, her hands busy holding the boxes. "Ninny!"

The door creaked open, a few sniffles sounding out as Octavia entered the bedroom, barely able to see where she was going over the stack of parcels piled against her. The door shut behind her, Octavia grunting as she manoeuvred the gifts over the bed and plopping them down with a sigh of relief.

"Oh, Ninny!" Octavia gasped, turning and seeing the state of her friend. "What happened?"

Hermione rubbed her fists against her puffy red eyes before sniffing and wiping away the dampness from her blotchy cheeks.

"Your brother," Hermione whispered, her voice cracking.

"What'd he do?" Octavia asked softly, approaching her snivelling friend.

"He … he called me … a mud- mud- blo-" Hermione choked out through the sobs that washed over her.

Octavia sighed, not requiring to hear the full word. Her parents were sure to hear about it, that was for certain.

"Ninny," Octavia coaxed, taking her friend's hand and pulling her over to the bed. "Come on."

Hermione sobbed as she followed Octavia, both girls laying on the bed before O hugged Hermione in silence. They lay there, neither speaking, as Hermione cried and sobbed, Octavia's arms wrapped tightly around her shaking body.

Neither girl spoke. What could be said? Octavia didn't know what to say. So she did the only thing she knew how to. She did what Hermione did for her each time Draco tormented her. She held her upset friend until the tears dried up and the sobs ceased, usually for hours.

In Hermione's case, however, it lasted only fifteen minutes, speaking volumes of Hermione's brilliant strength. Octavia only wished she possessed a fraction of Hermione's resilience.

That would be a grand asset to have, indeed.

* * *

Octavia grimaced as Ron stuffed revolting amounts of meatballs into his spaghetti-filled trap, whilst he attempted to speak about Quidditch. Specks of tomato sauce spat from his mouth as he spoke, Octavia shuddering at the hideous display. For a pureblood, he was rather unrefined.

Hermione sat next to her at the Gryffindor table, only nibbling on pieces of fruit and bread. Octavia didn't attempt to persuade her to eat more, knowing that her own appetite decreased considerably after an emotional release of tears. It was best to just leave her be, but maintain a close and comforting proximity whilst doing so. Hermione would speak when she was ready, and Octavia would be patient until that time.

"Jeez, she looks a right mess." Ron mumbled before devouring a hunk of steak.

Octavia went to berate the red-head for insulting Hermione, but realised that he was referring to someone else. Following his gaze, Octavia craned her neck and looked at the entrance to the Great Hall, instantly spotting Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. The Patil girl was ok, but Lavender … Wow.

The Gryffindor girl was walking slowly, her legs shining with scattered purple bruises and her left arm in a sling. Definitely terribly injured, especially since she had been receiving treatment in the infirmary for the past four days. Octavia shuddered to think of Lavender's injuries before the treatment.

"See?" Hermione snapped at Octavia, her voice hoarse. "That's what happens when you wear heels."

Octavia shrugged, finding that the threat of falling down the moving staircase, like Lavender had, was worth the gorgeous stilettoes adorning her feet. It was Lavender's own fault that she had tumbled down the stairs, and Octavia would not endure the same accident. For now, after Lavender's fall, Octavia took great care when she walked on the staircases, always making sure to hold onto the railings.

Just in case.


	25. Chapter 25

A groan of irritation rumbled through Octavia as she buried herself further into her pillows and duvet. The tapping on the dormitory window continued urgently, Octavia trying to shield out the annoying noise, by use of her fluffy pillows, to no avail. Honestly, who the hell was receiving an owl before breakfast? It was infuriating. The sun hadn't even fully risen in the sky yet. It was much too early for mail to be delivered.

The tapping of the owl's beak against the glass didn't stop, the three other roommates beginning to stir as the noise interrupted their slumber.

"Squib!" Millie shouted across the room. "Get your fucking owl!"

Octavia frowned, face down on the pillow, trickles of drool on her chin as she grunted. Of course it had to be her owl. It wasn't like her roommates hated her enough as it is.

Pushing herself from the mattress, Octavia braced the icy chill of the room, as she reluctantly climbed out of bed. She dragged her tired self over to the window, her bleary eyes recognising the black owl to be that of her father's. Great. That's the perfect way to start a Saturday morning, she mused bitterly; waking up to a probably less than pleasant letter from her father. Simply spectacular.

Hurriedly, Octavia whipped open the window and set to untying the envelope from the owl's leg, shivering as the icy breeze washed over her and penetrated the already cold room. Once done, the owl took off and Octavia wasted not a second before slamming the window shut and running back to the warmth of her bed.

Half-asleep, Octavia reburied herself under the thick and heavy duvet, quietly tearing the wax seal from the envelope before removing the letter.

 _Dear Octavia,_

 _As you know, I have spent some time considering your request for additional guests at the upcoming Annual Pureblood Banquet. While this exclusive event does not take place until New Year's Eve, two months from now, it is time to issue the final invites for said occasion._

 _Your request to have both, Miss Granger and Mr Diggory, as your guests has been partially accepted. Your mother and I have come to a decision, allowing you the presence of your friend, Miss Granger, at the Banquet for company and enjoyment. Miss Granger may spend the night at the family Château in Saint Tropez where the Banquet will take place. The invite was issued early this morning and should arrive in the morning mail delivery._

 _With regards to Mr Diggory, I must decline your proposal to invite the Hogwarts faculty member as your escort. I am aware of your sentiments regarding said Professor, and your interest in his offer on your contract. As your father, it is my obligation to ensure that you are presented with the best possible opportunities, therefore I cannot allow Mr Diggory to attend the Banquet as your potential suitor. As the Banquet is the 300_ _th_ _anniversary of the traditional Pureblood Courting Ceremonies, I must ensure that you are unattached at the event, thereby allowing others to consider and approach your contract. However, I have issued Mr Diggory with a formal invitation to the Banquet, allowing him the opportunity to attend the event unattached. I will be sure to observe the Professor throughout the night, as well as yourself – I expect the highest standard of acceptable behaviour, Octavia. Mr Diggory and yourself will not, by any means, participate in any romantic or intimate behaviours during this event._

 _While my decision to invite Mr Diggory as a guest, and not your escort is final, it should not suggest that I have declined his latest offer, for I have not. Given the steady increase of your grades, and the recent reports of your proper behaviour from Severus, I will take your wishes into consideration with your contract._

 _As previously mentioned, I am currently in negotiations with a potential suitor, yet nothing has been solidified at present. Mr Diggory's offer, therefore, has not been declined, and will serve as a potential secondary option. I expect your full cooperation with this decision, and hope that you continue to increase your grades and maintain your proper behaviour._

 _Your mother and I miss you dearly, and eagerly await your return home at the beginning of the Christmas Break._

 _Love,_

 _Father._

* * *

Only socks adorned her feet, Octavia improperly venturing to the Owrly in the wee hours of the morning in nothing more than her silk nightie. The black night slip hardly protected her from the cold castle air, her sock-covered feet freezing with the iciness of the stone ground. No matter. She would return to the dormitories before the waking hour, employing her stealthy-side.

Tottering through the castle, Octavia hummed wretchedly as she remained positive. The response to her father's letter was brief but cooperative, and possessed no obvious manipulations. Why should it? The foundations were paved already, and all Octavia had to do now, was wait. She would be ever the lady at the Pureblood function, smile gracefully and be on her best behaviour. Her father would respond to her respectful mannerisms and grace, thereby potentially give further consideration to Cedric's offer.

It was progress.

For over the space of two months, her father had gone from out-rightly rejecting Cedric's offer, to considering his latest offer. Progress.

Octavia's hopeful and pleasant mood, however, was quickly shattered. As it always was. And, always, by the same offender.

Draco Malfoy reclined casually against the stone wall on the third floor corridor she entered. Stopping in her tracks, Octavia pursed her lips as she spotted him, looking ever the aristocrat. Hands in his trouser pockets, Draco didn't even glance at her, his head bowed and hair falling over his forehead as he presumably stared at the ground. He almost looked like he sleeping whilst standing. Rather odd.

Octavia wasn't exactly _scared_ of his presence in the corridor, given that he appeared to be much more amiable with her of late. Even before their licentious activities in the Haunted House the weekend prior, Draco had been rather cordial with her. Regardless, while she did not feel crippling fear at the sight of him, she was certainly apprehensive.

Swallowing audibly, Octavia flicked her tight curls over her shoulder and resumed her walk down the cold corridor, her hazel eyes glued to the meditative form of Draco Malfoy. As she neared him, hoping to pass by the pureblood without any interaction whatsoever, her heart began to thump loudly against her chest, her fingers and toes tingling with the trepidation that plagued her. She was not afraid, no. But she was hardly at ease.

Her hands clenched into little fists as he slowly raised his head, his eyes locking with hers as she continued to near him. The moment his hardened eyes found her, Octavia felt an involuntary shudder run through her body. His eyes were not stormy, nor filled with rage. They were hard and emotionless. Like grey pits of nothingness. Haunting. Eerie.

Goosebumps shivered up and down her body, Octavia's pace quickening somewhat, almost scurrying down the corridor. Her eyes watched him cautiously, both remaining completely and utterly silent. As she reached him, Draco pushed himself from the wall and raised his wand slowly, aiming it right at her.

Now she was afraid.

Octavia froze on the spot, her lips parting as she went to speak. But she didn't get the chance.

" _Stupefy!_ " Draco spat, Octavia's eyes widening before she went limp and fell to the harsh stone floor with a _thud!_

* * *

Hermione whacked a loose curl that fell over her face for the umpteenth time, only to have the curl fall right back into its annoyance position. Sighing in annoyance, Hermione gathered her mass of tight ringlets and wrapped a hair-tie around them at the back of her head, forming a messy bun of curls and frizz.

Seated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Hermione began to load her plate with various foods from the breakfast selection. After the past few days of hurt and heartache, her appetite had suffered tremendously. But she was Hermione Granger, after all. So the dark cloud that hung above her head had evaporated, and consequently, her appetite had returned.

Hermione looked up as a swarm of owls soared into the Great Hall through the open windows, flying high in the enchanted sky as each owl searched for their intended recipient. A frown graced her pretty features as a massive black eagle spotted her and swooped down, headed right for her. The eagle, she believed, was one of the many birds that belonged to the Zabini family, having witnessed it delivering several letters to Octavia over the years.

Chewing on a piece of toast, Hermione eyed the grand eagle curiously as it landed gracefully before her, hesitantly removing the envelope from its leg. The moment she untied the envelope, the eagle took off into the enchanted sky and disappeared through an open window.

"What'd you get?" Ron asked through a mouthful of fried eggs, eyeing the evidently expensive envelope with interest.

Hermione shrugged, turning the envelope over to observe the wax seal, which featured the Zabini crest.

"Zabinis?" Ron frowned, leaning over the table as he eyed the wax seal curiously. "What're they writin' to you fur?"

"Let's find out," Hermione said, delicately breaking the wax seal and removing a costly piece of black parchment.

Unfolding the thick parchment, Hermione noticed that it was written on with silver ink … Could it be real silver? Surely not.

.

 _Annual Pureblood Banquet_

 _Your attendance has been formally requested at the Annual Pureblood Banquet._

 _Please join us in celebrating the ceremonial 300_ _th_ _anniversary of the elite Pureblood functions, by attending the prestigious event. You are invited to witness our sacred traditions of courting customs, and experience the variety of pureblood cultures from across Europe and the United Kingdom._

 _Attire: White-Tie_

 _December 31_ _st_ _6pm – January 1_ _st_ _6am_

 _The Grand Ballroom_

 _Zabini Château_

 _Saint Tropez, France_

 _As an honoured guest, you will be expected to participate in the traditional dances of the society event, excluding the courting dance; The Amare Chorum._

 _Accommodations at the Zabini Château have been arranged for your visit, and we hope that you enjoy your attendance and experience._

.

"Jeez," Ron mumbled, his brows raised as he scanned the parchment in Hermione's hands. "They're inviting a muggle-born?"

Hermione had to agree that it was rather strange for her to be invited. Yet, she knew that Octavia had been trying for years to have Hermione invited to one of the many gatherings. She didn't know how O managed to pull it off, but Hermione was excited all the same. It would be culturally educational to attend such an elite function and observe the core of refined Pureblood society. Although the dancing certainly had her a little concerned.

"I don't know any of the traditional dances," Hermione sighed, refolding the parchment.

"They're easy," Ron shrugged. "I'll help you, if you want?"

"That'd be great," Hermione smiled.

"Only if you do my Ancient Runes essay," Ron grinned.

Hermione pursed her lips but nodded in agreement.

She would need all the help she could get.

* * *

A violent pounding sensation assaulted her skull, Octavia groaning as she came to. Her hand found its way to the back of her head, clutching and rubbing the aching pain that throbbed relentlessly. As she began to wake, Octavia frowned at the recollection that swarmed her mind; the memory of Draco _stupefying_ her in the corridor.

Why had he done that? Just for the sake of it? Maybe because she was rude to him in the library? Perhaps due her to her evading him constantly throughout the week? She almost scoffed at her thought process. As if Draco Malfoy ever needed an actual reason to hex her. He just enjoyed it, plain and simple.

Rubbing her hands over her face, Octavia groaned as she forced her body into a sitting position, her back aching and her bum numb from laying in an awkward position for so long. How long? She didn't know the answer to that. But she would assume at least an hour or so, for that is generally how long the stunning hex affected its victims for.

But if it had been hours, why was she still laying on the ground in the corridor? Why had nobody assisted her? The students would be up and about the castle by now, all headed toward the Owrly or Great Hall for breakfast.

How strange.

Octavia blinked a few times, trying to clear her blurry vision. At present, all she could see was a strange whirling thing before her, almost drowned out in darkness. Very strange, indeed. Continuing to focus her vision, Octavia concentrated on the whirling blur before her, her brows furrowed as it whooshed and hissed in the darkness.

Her confusion increased greatly as she attempted to stand, only to find herself trapped between two walls. Were they walls? They were hard and wooden, from what she gathered as she ran her hands up and down the confines. Was … was she in a _closet_? Why on earth would she be in a closet? It was beyond silly, even by her standards!

The speculations regarding her confines, however, were swiftly transferred to the strange whirling thing in the air. It was whirling no longer. Instead, it began to morph into four bodies; three men and one woman. Or at least, she assumed that to be the case, given the outlines of the figures. There wasn't nearly enough light in there to allow her to determine the genders of the bodies with absolute certainty.

Oh fuck.

Octavia knew exactly what was in the closet with her. And it sure as hell wasn't people.

* * *

The tension between the Head Boy and Girl was horrendously awkward as they walked, side by side, down the cobble-stone path. As part of their duties, Hermione and Blaise were obligated to supervise the third and fourth years down to the Hogsmeade Village on Saturdays, much to their dismay. Hermione wished for nothing more than Blaise to conduct his usual dismissal of his duties, and bugger off where he's actually wanted. Alas, he appeared to have woken up with a sense of responsibility that morning, and surprisingly arrived in the foyer on time. Again, much to Hermione's dismay.

The cluster of excited third and fourth years walked ahead of Hermione and Blaise, their relentless chatter penetrating the silent tension between the two Heads. Thankfully. For without the noise of the excited younger students, the Heads would have endured an impossibly long and silent twenty-minute walk to the Wizarding Village.

Of course, Hermione always had her thoughts to distract her from the uncomfortable atmosphere that engulfed them. An almost blissful smile graced her lips as she imaged hexing Blaise into the Black Lake. If only. Then again, she could always conjure a swarm of birds and charm them to attack the Italian Prat. Decision, decisions. So many options of revenge, but none of which she would pursue. In her opinion, Blaise was just not worth the detention she would receive for her assaults.

She still took great comfort in the endless stream of possible humiliating hexes she could fire at him. Perhaps if Blaise had encountered the Boggart during their DADA class that week, she would have substantial information and ammo to reduce him to smithereens. A girl could dream.

Hermione couldn't deny, however, that her curiosity regarding Blaise's rejection of the Boggart to had peaked. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge was perhaps to blame. She wanted to know absolutely everything. Yes. That was the reason for her unyielding desire to know of his Boggart. Definitely not due to the fact of Octavia's gossipy side rubbing off on her. Nope. Definitely not.

But if Hermione was the gossiping-type – which she wasn't, of course – she would definitely wish to know the reason for Blaise's suspicious refusal to encounter the Boggart. She would simply crave to know of the form the Boggart would take upon interacting with Blaise. She almost scoffed; for his Boggart would be little more than materialistic concerns. Probably something along the lines of seeing himself as a pauper. Perhaps seeing himself as a career-man, or something equally as trivial.

"I believe you received your invitation this morning," Blaise drawled, Hermione almost flinching as he broke the thick silence.

Hermione had definitely expected the silence to remain between them during the remainder of the walk to Hogsmeade, both too stubborn to speak. Both too filled with anger and hatred. But, again, she was shown just how little she knew the Italian heir.

If there was one thing Hermione loathed to her core, it was unpredictability.

"Will you be accepting the invitation?" Blaise asked casually as they continued down the cobble-stone path.

"Why wouldn't I?" Hermione responded coolly, her chin raising slightly.

"Are you attending in the hopes of snaring another pureblood?" Blaise sneered cruelly, his gaze fixed on the cluster of students ahead. "After all, you were unsuccessful in garnering my affections, and there will be a buffet of wealthy pureblood men at the event."

If Hermione didn't know any better, she would think that he almost sounded jealous. Not hateful, like he attempted to portray. But jealous. Of course, that was a silly notion.

"You think far too highly of yourself, Zabini." Hermione scoffed, the duo almost reaching the entrance to the Village. Nearing her escape from the prat.

"I am not the one who shamelessly chases her superiors." Blaise smirked.

"Superiors?" Hermione laughed. "You think you are superior to me? Because of your blood, or your wealth?"

"Both, obviously."

"Interesting," Hermione nodded, pursing her lips. "For even with all that wealth and _purity_ , you still seem unable to possess any decent qualities that a human-being should possess. You are arrogant, vile and racist. You are nothing, but a spoiled rich boy who needs mummy and daddy to fulfil his every desire."

Blaise quirked his brow, his eyes darkening as they arrived at the Village. He turned to face the muggle-born in order to retort, but didn't get the chance.

"Even with all your money, Zabini," Hermione hissed, staring him dead in the eye. "You are inferior to even the vilest of creatures. You are less than a maggot, and would do well to remember it."

With that, Hermione barged passed the furious pureblood, headed straight for _The Three Broomsticks_ to meet her friends. Hopefully Octavia would be there also. For Hermione hadn't seen her best-friend all morning.

It wasn't unusual for Octavia to sleep in on Saturdays, sometimes missing breakfast. But it was certainly strange that O wasn't in the foyer to meet Luna and the boys, ready to venture off to the adjacent Village.

* * *

Her whole body shook with the tears that she no longer cried, and the sobs that she no longer endured. There were no more tears left in her to shed. She was all dried up. Spent. Completely. Yet, her body shook and trembled as she lay on her side, her knees brought up to her chest and hands pressed firmly against her ears.

No matter how hard she tried to block out the voices, they penetrated her shielded ears and shattered soul regardless. The Boggart had remained in the same form for the past … hour? How long had she been in there? Surely longer than an hour. It felt like days, in truth. But it couldn't have been days. Someone would have found her by now if it were.

Octavia had no idea how long she had been trapped in the closet for. She knew that, despite her aggressive and frantic efforts, the doors would not open. There was no escape, for the doors had been locked with multiple spells. Even though she had kicked it relentlessly, spraining her ankle in the process, it didn't even creak. It didn't budge. It remained locked, and she remained trapped. With the fucking Boggart.

The Boggart was driving her insane. Literally, she feared. Shaky breaths escaped her swollen lips, probably bruised by her incessant and anxious biting. She bit her lip no more, however. Now, she just lay on her side for what seemed like an eternity, reluctantly hearing the horrid and cruel words of the Boggart. She wasn't listening to the words, but she heard them. Over and over again; a never-ending cycle of pain and misery. Each faux person spoke on cue, carrying out her worst fears over and over and over again. Never-ending. Never stopping. Never ceasing in chipping away at her sanity and soul.

Her blood-shot eyes remained open, gazing vacantly at the wooden wall of the closet, occasional hiccups and whimpers escaping her lips as her body shivered. Her body shivered from the remnants of the sobs, from the pain of her soul and from the icy coldness of her cruel prison.

Goosebumps plagued her trembling body, but she didn't know if they were from the cold or the terror. For she still felt the terror. Each time the Boggart spoke, her anguish and fear increased. But mostly when it was _him_ speaking; her tormentor.

The one she would never escape.

Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco stared up at the ceiling in his dormitory, laying on his back, one arm beneath his pillow, the other draped over his bare chest. There was nothing of interest about the ceiling in that moment, nor any prior. He was merely gazing at it blankly, his mind and thoughts elsewhere. For no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't drift off to sleep. He tossed and turned all night, finally submitting the buzzing brain in his head, laying quietly as he listened to his roommates breathe evenly in their deep sleeps.

But his thoughts were not on his roommates. His thoughts were on his squib. The filthy, treacherous whore of a squib that remained trapped in the closet. It was the prime space to incarcerate her; for no one would venture into the classroom in which the closet occupied. Not during the weekend, that is. Come Monday morning, the classroom would be filled, and she would be freed.

Yet he couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart as he thought about her prison. He had selected it due to its cruelty, finding that the punishment only _just_ fit the crime. Perhaps he should have just cruio'd her? It would have been quick, yes. But incredibly painful. And she would be recovering at that exact moment, thereby allowing Draco a proper night's sleep. Since it appeared to be the very reason that she remained in the closet that Draco couldn't fall asleep.

The pang in his heart and the chaos of his mind prevented the slumber from taking him.

Draco sighed as he rubbed his hands over his weary face. Perhaps she had learned her lesson by now? If so, he could free her. Did he want to free her? Yes. But a day in the Boggart closet was hardly a sufficient punishment. Unfortunately, it appeared that his clenching heart was punishing him too.

Internally debating his options, Draco heaved himself out of bed and made his way to the vacant common room. His roommates didn't even stir as he departed the dorm room, the door slamming shut behind him. His bare feet connected with the icy steps of the staircase he descended, arriving at the common room in little more than black sweatpants.

Flicking his hand in the direction of the fireplace, flames erupted and the crackling of the burning fire now sounded out around him. A peaceful sound; a fire burning, crackling, hissing. So peaceful. Octavia liked the sound of a fireplace, too.

In their youth, Draco would frequently find Octavia in random parts of the Manor, sitting cross-legged as she watched the roaring fireplace. Perhaps that is why he enjoyed the sound? Perhaps it was because she did?

Pushing all memories of the squib from his mind, Draco snatched a crystal tumbler from the bar in the common room and filled it with generous amounts of fire whiskey. Hopefully it would assist him in falling asleep. Or, he could always just free the squib from the closet- he suspected that he would find himself asleep in no time, if he freed her.

But he daren't end her punishment prematurely. She had to learn her place; beneath him. Always beneath him.

Even if she was a witch, and not a wizard-born, she would still be inferior to him. She had to learn that. The quicker she learned, the easier her existence would be. Yet each time he was certain that she had accepted her place, she proved him wrong.

When she spread her delectable legs for him in the Haunted House, she had submitted- she had _learned_. It was only days after that he discovered her treachery. Her rejection of his superiority. It maddened him. Infuriated him. Why couldn't she just accept it? It would be so much easier for her if she just accepted it.

Draco would never be _kind_ to her, for it was not in his nature. But when she behaved to his standards, he rediscovered a soft and gentle side of himself, seemingly reserved for her. Perhaps created _by_ her.

But when she rejected him and his authority – his right to her body – a furious wrath was unleashed. Again, seemingly reserved just for her. Always for her. Only for her.

Was it not enough? He could be gentle with her; he had proven that already, had he not? And he could buy her everything that her greedy little heart desired. Only _he_ had sufficient wealth for her; her desires could not even make a dent in his riches. So why would she give herself to another? No one was better suited to the whore than him. Didn't she see that?

If she saw it, her life would be much easier.

If she refused, however, her life would be hell.

The thought brought the memory of Lavender Brown to mind. The Gryffindor bint ended up hospitalised from his wrath, by merely being in his vicinity. If Octavia had of been near him at the time of his discovery, her injuries would have surpassed Lavender's without a doubt. Right?

He didn't know.

He had the opportunity in the corridor that morning to assault her. He could have done it, and placed her broken body at the foot of the moving stairs to fake an accident. After wiping her memories, of course, like he had done with Lavender. But he didn't do that with Octavia.

Why not?

He could. He knew that. But he … didn't.

Draco was a complex man even to himself, it seemed.

Deciding against retrieving Octavia from her personal hell, Draco shoved down the pangs of pity within him and swallowed the remainder of his fire whiskey. But he did not retreat to bed, for he knew that he would not find sleep that night.

He merely sat on the sofa in the common room, staring at the fire with cold grey eyes. Listening to the sounds of crackling and hissing. Occasional _pops!_ sang out, reminding him of the young Octavia flinching when she heard that noise. And she would always giggle after, embarrassed at her little display. Always giggling.

Suddenly, Draco could no longer hear the fire. He only heard her sweet and splendid giggles. He heard the delightful memories of her laughs and squeals of glee.

Sounds that he longed to hear in the present day. For it was the most beautiful melody of all time.

* * *

 _'We don't love you, Octavia.'_

Don't say that mummy. I love you.

 _'You are a disgrace to our family, Octavia.'_

I'll try harder, daddy. Please, I want to make you proud.

 _'You're not my real sister, Octavia. You know that, don't you? Deep down, you know it to be true.'_

I am your sister, Blaise!

 _'We should have never taken you in, Octavia. You are the biggest mistake we have ever made.'_

Mummy, stop!

 _'You know it's true, little squib.'_

No! Not you! I don't want to talk to you!

 _'Ah, but you will never be free of me, filthy mudblood. I will always be there to show how little you are worth. How disgusting you are. How wretched you are.'_

Go away Draco! Leave me alone!

 _'I will always be near. You will never evade me, little squib. I will destroy you entirely, until there is nothing left. No one will help you, Octavia. For no one loves you.'_


	26. Chapter 26

Octavia huddled up against the wall of the closet, her face buried in her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs as she hummed loudly, attempting to drown out the voices of the Boggart. Her blotchy cheeks felt dry and crisp, the hardened residue of her tears causing her discomfort. Her red and weary eyes almost burned from the copious amount of crying she had suffered through, her sprained ankle thumping with aching pain.

She had focused so much on blocking out the cruel words of the Boggart, she didn't even realise that new voices were sounding out from outside the closet. Nor did she realise that she had been trapped in the closet for twenty-four hours. Although, she did suspect it to be a considerable amount of time, given the fact that she was mere moments away from wetting herself. A girl could only hold it in for so long.

Continuing to hum and cradle her body, Octavia went completely unaware of the closet door creaking open, the sheer loudness of her horrid humming drowning out the noise. It was only when a hand rested on her shoulder that she plummeted back to reality like a tonne of cauldrons falling from the sky.

A horrid scream tore through her throat, fearing that the Boggart was touching her, her legs kicking out violently as hushing sounds went unheard. No longer was the Boggart hissing horrid words to her, nor in the shape of her family and tormentor. The Boggart whirled and spun in the air, Professor Snape and Professor Slughorn at the doors of the closet, attempting to calm the screaming wizard-born down.

"Miss Zabini!" Snape barked, blocking her flailing fists from connecting with his gloomy face. "Cease your attacks at once!"

"Miss Zabini, what on earth are you doing in there?" Slughorn asked, peering into the dark and small space, the Boggart still twirling around in the air.

Octavia slowly ceased her attacks, her breathing harsh, her chest heaving as she gazed stupidly at the Professors. The Boggart stopped its spinning, settling into the form of a cloaked figure, a python snake slithering at its bare feet. Octavia gaped as she adjusted to her new companions, her wide eyes flickering between the two Professors and the strange Boggart.

A whine escaped her bruised and swollen lips as she buried her face in her hands, questioning the situation entirely. What if the Boggart was merely toying with her? What if it feigned her saviours?

She didn't have to question it for long, however. For mere seconds later, Octavia fell into a deep sleep from the spell issued by the Potions Master.

* * *

Sitting up in the bed, Octavia leaned back against the headboard cushioned by fluffy pillows as she doodled on the fashion magazine on her lap. She had attempted to distract her thoughts from her traumatic experience by sifting through the magazine and selecting new clothes. However, her impersonal retail therapy did not appear to have the desired effect. Which was rather odd, in Octavia's opinion, for it had always worked for her.

Whether it be in store, or by use of fashion magazines, Octavia usually found that shopping soothed her woes and concerns. It usually made her feel like a million galleons. But at that moment, despite her stack of fashion magazines, Octavia felt like little more than a crusty old knut.

It wasn't that Octavia was literally traumatised by Draco's cruel torment of her, which spanned over twenty-four hours straight. It was just that she was still shaken up about her experience- understandably so, given that she was only saved from the closet of hell a mere two hours ago.

Thankfully, the students of Hogwarts would be awaking soon, and Hermione – as Head Girl – would no doubt hear of Octavia's mistreatment. It was a welcome thought, to be sure. For Hermione would make her way straight to the infirmary, and do a much better job of consoling Octavia than Madame Pomphrey was.

To be fair, Madame Pomphrey's 'comfort' consisted of pouring Calming Draught's down O's throat, and rambling on about Octavia's refusal to speak of her attacker. Do not misunderstand, however; Octavia wanted nothing more than scream to the heavens that Draco had done this to her for no reason whatsoever. But she daren't. Her father would be furious if she were to directly challenge the Malfoy heir.

At times like these, she wondered if her father even cared about her at all, or if he only cared about connections and pureblood politics. But on her good days, Octavia dismissed the thought. For she knew her father adored her. She was, as some would say, a 'daddy's girl' to her core. And she knew, being a female in the patriarchal pureblood society, that he had no choice but to play the game. It was just how it was, and nothing would change that.

As if on cue to distract Octavia from her morbid thoughts, Hermione burst through the doors to the infirmary, her wide brown eyes finding the wizard-born instantly. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she practically ran over to O's bedside.

"I just heard," Hermione rambled. "I'm so sorry, O. I just thought … when I didn't see you yesterday, I just assumed you were in your dorms. I should have checked, I'm so sorry!"

"Why are you sorry?" Octavia scoffed, scooting over to make room for Ninny. "It's not your fault."

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked gently, seating herself next to her shaken up friend.

"As alright as I can be," O shrugged.

"What … How long were you in there? Professor Snape said twenty-four hours, but …"

"It was," O nodded meekly.

"Merlin," Hermione breathed, taking her friend's cold hand in hers.

"So, Snape told you?"

"Yes. He advised us to check the classroom during our patrols now. Just … to make sure."

"Was … Blaise there when Snape told you?" Octavia asked, picking at a loose thread in her blanket.

"Yes," Hermione sighed.

"What'd … Did he say anything?"

"No. He just stormed out of the common room."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, forcing a smile onto her face. It came across as more of a grimace though.

"Lucky Snape found you," Hermione smiled, attempting to distract her friend from thoughts of her absent brother. "Now you get to stay here and read fashion magazines all day."

"How did they find me though?" Octavia asked, not caring in the slightest about fashion at that moment.

"They were relocating the Boggart to the dungeons," Hermione answered. "The lessons of the creature have finished."

Octavia hummed, finding that she was quite lucky indeed. If she had been trapped after the Boggart was moved, who knows how long she would have spent in the closet.

"How long have you to stay in the infirmary for?"

"The whole day and night," Octavia shrugged. "I don't mind though; I don't wanna go back to the Slytherin common room."

"Was it … Malfoy?" Hermione asked hesitantly. "Did he do this? Is that why you don't want to go back?"

Octavia only shrugged in response.

"You have to tell Professor Snape who did this to you, O. This is a lot more serious than a few hexes here and there."

"I can't tell on him," Octavia grumbled, watching her toes wiggle through the blanket.

"Why not? Why are you protecting him? After all he's done to you, O!"

"It's the way it is." Octavia whispered. "I can't … You wouldn't understand."

"No, I don't understand."

"Look," Octavia sighed. "Maybe now … After all this, he might leave me alone now. What else can he do? What's worse than being trapped with your worst fear, playing over and over again, never stopping, for an entire day and night? Nothing. I think … I think he'll just leave me alone now."

"I don't know, O." Hermione sighed. "This … might run a lot deeper than I originally thought."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a rumour going around Hogwarts."

"What kind of rumour?"

"The kind that involves you and Malfoy." Hermione said, her expression grim.

Octavia's heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. It … It couldn't possibly … No one knew! Only she and Draco knew about what occurred in the Haunted House. It couldn't possibly be it. Then why was her heart beating so wildly? Why were her palms sweating and clamming instantly?

"You see," Hermione continued, eyeing Octavia's paling complexion. "Some students are saying that Malfoy … that his Boggart was … you."

Not aware that she was holding her breath, Octavia exhaled in relief. Suddenly, her heart rate slowly returned to normal and her horrified expression gave way to a look of confusion.

"Huh?"

"In class last week, apparently Malfoy's Boggart was you … Saying things to him."

"Saying what?"

"Well, that depends on who you ask," Hermione laughed nervously. "The general gist of it was that you don't want or love him."

"That's stupid," Octavia said, her face scrunching up in disbelief. "His Boggart would be … I dunno. Not that though."

"Those are the rumours," Hermione shrugged. "Whether there's any truth to them or not, I wouldn't know."

"But you would know, Ninny. You're in his class, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I was telling off Ron for not completing his Transfiguration assignment on time," Hermione explained. "I only looked after everyone started laughing, and all I saw were bubbles."

"Oh." Octavia nodded, still sensing no truth to the rumours.

Hermione observed her solemn friend with concern, noting the puffiness and redness of her usually bright hazel eyes. Her normally milky-white complexion had lightened further, now a sickly-pale. Her lips were swollen and bruised, and aura completely and utterly dejected.

It was hardly the nicest thing in the world to see your friend in such a state. It probably didn't help, however, that they had only discussed Malfoy and the misery he forced onto the wizard-born.

Checking her watch, Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line before returning her stare to a silent O.

"The 'Caring for Magical Creatures Club' meeting starts in an hour," Hermione informed, assessing her friend carefully. "I can run the meeting if you want, but I know how excited you were to talk to the Bloody Baron."

"Can you reschedule it?" Octavia asked, her eyes fixed on her chipped nail polish on her fingernails.

"Until next weekend?"

"Yeah," O nodded. "That'd be good."

"Ok," Hermione smiled, slipping off the bed. "I'll let the Bloody Baron know and post the notice on the event board."

"Ninny? Can you … tell Cedric that I'm here?"

"I'm sure he'll hear about it from the other Professors," Hermione frowned, not wishing to partake in their relationship in any way.

"Please?" Octavia whispered, her big doe-eyes gazing up at Hermione.

Octavia almost smirked, and would have had she possessed the energy, as Hermione nodded firmly, looking less than pleased about agreeing to her friend's request.

Fortunately, Octavia's doe-eyes won the battle, and would for many more to come. Her eyes were her greatest weapon.

If only they worked on Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Checking the rusted clock on her nightstand, Octavia almost smiled as she realised that she still had time. Even though it was the late evening, Octavia still had time to call on her house-elf, Pinky. The wards at Hogwarts would allow the house-elves belonging to students only the weekend to visit and run errands. But throughout the week, it was not allowed.

Octavia wasn't exactly sure whether it was merely a rule that personal house-elves were not allowed on the grounds during the week, or if the wards were specifically adjusted to keep them out. It was food for thought, to Octavia though. For even at her own Manor, Pinky and the other elves could apparate in and out of the wards of the grand home, but the magical folk could not. Her family and their guests all used the floo-network, or apparated outside of the wards before walking the rest of the distance.

Perhaps it was the same at Hogwarts?

"Pinky!" Octavia sang.

She waited a few seconds before her house-elf appeared, clad a pink dress that Octavia had forced her father to transfigure for her. O couldn't actually _give_ Pinky clothes without disowning her, so she made the best of it. Frequently, O would get her father to transfigure and _scrougify_ Pinky's pillow-case into gorgeous little dresses and outfits.

"Mistress Zabini," Pinky greeted, bowing low. "Pinky is glad to be seeing Mistress. Pinky has missed her Mistress."

"Aw," Octavia smiled warmly at the elf. "I missed you too, Pinky."

The house-elf beamed at her Mistress, her eyes tearing up.

"I need you to go to the Head Dormitories and see Hermione." Octavia instructed, the elf nodding vigorously as she spoke. "I have three parcels there that need to be taken back to the Manor in my clothes room."

"Yes, Mistress," Pinky nodded, rolling on the balls of her over-sized feet.

"And this," Octavia whispered, despite her and the elf being the only occupants of the room.

The house-elf watch with big eyes, fidgeting her hands together – a habit she perhaps picked up from her Mistress – as Octavia handed the elf a large tome of muggle fashionwear.

"There are a few pages that I've marked. I want … I want you to go into the muggle world for me," Octavia whispered, the growing confusion and apprehension evident in Pinky's eyes. "I need you to find the clothes I've circled, but only at really expensive shops, ok? And don't tell anyone- just hide the parcels in my closet."

"If Lady Zabini or Lord Zabini find out …" The elf whispered, fear plaguing her tiny form. "Sometimes … Lady Zabini goes into the closet …"

"Then lie." Octavia ordered firmly. The elf belonged to her, therefore was obligated to do as Octavia said. "If mother finds them, say that they are gifts for Hermione or something, ok?"

Pinky nodded, taking the heavy tome from her Mistress' hands and spelling it to reduce in size before slipping it into her pocket.

The doors to the infirmary opened, Blaise strolling in casually, his hands in his pockets as his dark eyes spotted his sister. Octavia and Pinky gasped in perfect unison at the sight of Blaise; his jaw and cheekbone shining with bright purple bruises and a gash on his forehead, still bleeding.

"Blaise!" Octavia breathed, her eyes wide with horror. "What happened to you?"

Blaise smirked as he sauntered over to O, seating himself on the end of the bed as he immediately set to helping himself to her box of chocolates. Pinky blinked at Master Zabini, concern shining in her large eyes before she bowed low and disapparated with a _pop!_

"Blaise," Octavia scowled, annoyed that he hadn't answered her. "What happened?"

"Nothing to concern yourself about," Blaise drawled, making himself comfortable on her bed. "A friendly sparring session, is all."

"Friendly?" Octavia scoffed, eyeing the damage to his face. "Sparring isn't allowed at Hogwarts, Blaise."

Before Blaise could respond, the doors swung open again, Draco stepping through the threshold, his bottom lip cut and sporting a black-eye. Although he did look less injured than Blaise who tensed instantly.

Draco eyed the Zabini twins coolly before approaching them, his gaze fixing on an evidently nervous Octavia. Blaise slowly popped another piece of chocolate into his mouth, never taking his dark eyes off Draco as the blonde pureblood seated himself on the parallel bed.

"Where's Pomphrey?" Blaise asked, turning his gaze to his paling sister.

"Uh," Octavia frowned, hauling her eyes from Draco's cold stare. "She … uh … went with Professor Snape for potions about an hour ago. She'll be back soon, I think."

 _I hope._

Perfectly on time to save the day, Professor Snape and Madame Pomphrey arrived, pushing through the doors, boxes of various types of vials levitating in front of them. Snape narrowed his beady eyes at the sight of his Slytherin students, the Princes evidently roughed up. Pomphrey seemed to share Snape's sentiments, appearing thoroughly unimpressed as she thinned her lips disapprovingly.

"Mr. Zabini," Pomphrey snapped, motioning for the Head Boy to follow her.

Octavia watched sadly as her brother reluctantly left her bedside, following Pomphrey into her office, Snape at his heels. Leaving her alone with the cruellest man alive. Great.

There really was no escape from the demon.

Draco pushed himself from the adjacent bed, stepping toward O slowly as the wizard-born shrank back against the headboard, eyeing him with caution and terror.

"Go away," Octavia whispered timidly.

Draco kept his hardened eyes on her as he approached, his fingers grazing over her legs slowly. Octavia yanked her legs up against her chest, almost glowering at the blonde psychopath. Almost. Draco quirked his brow, resuming his inappropriate actions; continuing to drag his fingertips over her leg, moving slowly whilst holding her gaze.

"Leave me alone," Octavia breathed, her entire body tense.

He didn't stop, or even hesitate. He continued to run his fingers over her legs, the blanket preventing skin-on-skin contact. All the while holding her terrified gaze, his hard and cold eyes boring into her severely.

Octavia inhaled sharply as his hand suddenly snatched her throat, hauling her up to sit on her knees, Draco staring down at her with icy eyes. Her hands clasped onto his forearm, clutching tightly as his grip on her throat remained firm.

"Anything you wish to say, squib?" Draco asked coldly, his eyes undressing her fucking soul.

 _Apologise. Apologise and it will all be easier for you. So much easier._

"I hate you." Octavia seethed through clenched teeth, her eyes stinging with tears. "I hope you die."

Draco clenched his jaw tightly, his stare remaining cool as his heart clenched within him, the pain almost bringing him to his knees. But his cool composure didn't crack in the slightest. If anything, his eyes burned with fresh waves of anger, stemming from the anguish.

Swooping down, Draco crashed his lips against hers harshly, Octavia clamping her mouth shut tightly. The last thing she wanted was to taste his peppermint tongue in her mouth, stealing another kiss from her like he had done so many times before. But Draco didn't even try and part her lips or slither his tongue into her mouth. He merely pressed his own lips against hers, the teeth in her mouth beginning to ache from the sheer pressure. Her nails raked at his hand, attempting to pry his fingers from her throat to no avail.

Draco reduced the pressure of his harsh kiss, their lips still touching as she groaned, squirming feebly as she attempted to escape him.

"Never forget what you are, Octavia." Draco whispered dangerously against her lips.

Octavia squirmed and clawed at his hand, the same word repeating in her head over and over again: _Possession._

Suddenly, Draco released his hold on her, Octavia scurrying backwards until she connected with the headboard, the hatred in her hazel eyes burning a hole in his soul.

"Mr Malfoy," Professor Diggory drawled, hands in his pockets as he entered the infirmary.

Octavia felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of her boyfriend and unintentional saviour. She didn't recall a time where she was genuinely this grateful to see Cedric. Draco kept his back to the Professor, however, his grey eyes storming as his jaw clenched. He appeared to have just realised something; as though he had learned the most awful truth of all time.

"Professor Dickory," Draco sneered, turning to face the Professor.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Cedric sighed, showing no fear whatsoever. "I will not tolerate disrespect, Mr Malfoy. Now, do you mind telling me what you are doing with Miss Zabini, here? She appears to be in need of rest."

Before Draco could respond, Madame Pomphrey, Snape and Blaise exited the Healer's office at the other end of the long room, everyone glancing around at each other. O smiled weakly as Blaise frequently assessed her with dark eyes, scanning her appearance intently to detect any signs of injury. While her curls were a little dishevelled, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary.

"Mr Malfoy," Pomphrey sighed, waving her hand to indicate that he should join her in her office.

Draco didn't even glance at the Healer, his fierce and murderous stare remaining connected with Professor Diggory's. A silent stand-off of sorts, it seemed.

"I am not here to be healed," Draco spat, his upper lip curling as realisation and anguish crashed down on him.

"This is the Hospital Wing!" Pomphrey exclaimed, evidently annoyed. "If you are not here for me to see to that injury on your face, then leave at once!"

Draco sneered at the Professor, their eyes remaining locked, as he stepped forward slowly.

"You too, Mr Zabini!" Pomphrey ushered, flicking her hands to shoo the Slytherins out of the room.

Without a backwards glance at a silent Octavia, Draco barged passed Cedric, their shoulders connecting harshly as Draco stormed out of the infirmary. Blaise quickly followed, after swiftly assessing his sister once more, a furious Professor Snape at their heels.

"Professor Diggory," Madame Pomphrey sighed, evidently weary given the late hour. "What can I do for you?"

"I was merely visiting Miss Zabini here," Cedric responded, his softened gaze meeting Octavia's for a moment before facing the Healer.

"I was not aware that she was under your care, Professor Diggory," Pomphrey clipped, her suspicious narrow eyes fixed on the tense Professor.

"Miss Zabini is as much 'under my care' as the rest of the student body, Madame Pomphrey. However, I am not here to assess her health."

"Oh?"

"I am paying Miss Zabini a visit in regards to her assignment, which is due tomorrow morning." Cedric drawled, returning the Healer's stare. "Wouldn't you agree that Miss Zabini would benefit from an extension, given her recent incident?"

"I see," Pomphrey nodded, seemingly ashamed of herself. "I find that I agree with your decision entirely."

Cedric nodded once before returning his gaze to a wide-eyed Octavia. "Your amended due date is no later than Thursday, Miss Zabini."

"Thank you, Professor."

Cedric inclined his head formally before turning and strolling out of the infirmary, Madame Pomphrey only retreating to her office once the Professor was gone. Octavia sighed, leaning back on her pile of pillows as she relaxed. With the departure of everyone, the tense atmosphere definitely left with them.

Pomphrey briskly walked out of her office, Octavia turning her tired eyes to approaching Healer. Nearing her bedside, the Healer uncorked a small vial and extended it to a suspicious Octavia.

"Drink this, Miss Zabini." Pomphrey ordered tersely, seemingly blaming Octavia for the disorder that night.

"What is it?"

"A sleep draught," the healer clipped as O took the vial. "It will ensure that you sleep soundly through the night without dreaming."

O didn't need telling twice. She sculled the foul liquid within the vial, swallowing it whole with an audible gulp before shuddering.

"Gross," Octavia shivered, handing the empty vial back to the stern woman.

"Goodnight, Miss Zabini." The woman murmured, turning and marching back to her office, slamming the door behind her loudly.

Again, Octavia was alone. No company. No distractions. Just her and her memories of the Boggart.

Groaning, Octavia rolled around in the bed, making herself comfortable as she shut her eyes. She hadn't slept in thirty-six hours now, and the potion would ensure that the issue was rectified. Her sleep would be deep, and her dreams would be non-existent. Or so she had thought.

For the moment that the potion took hold of her, Octavia found herself in a dream- in a memory. One that she was reminded of during her wrestle with Draco in the Haunted House. One that seeped into her mind frequently since the Halloween Ball.

A memory that she never wished to think of again, so long as she lived.

* * *

 _Octavia squealed and giggled marvellously as she ran through the Malfoy Manor gardens, dodging and weaving her way through the maze of rose-bushes. Theo and Draco were hot on her heels, all three thoroughly enjoying their game of Tag. Although Octavia couldn't help but suspect that Draco was allowing her to win, fully aware that he was much faster than she._

 _No matter. She was having a blast as they chased her, all three pureblood children racing through the maze, the boys nearing their target. Unfortunately, Blaise was not allowed to join them in their games that afternoon, for he had been naughty. Blaise had hidden Octavia's new puppy in the Zabini Manor dungeons in retaliation for the Chihuahua peeing on his Nimbus 1000. Her brother was currently forced to sit with the adults on the deck, enduring mind-numbing conversations of politics, and nasty gossiping sessions._

 _Octavia didn't mind the gossiping sessions that the women indulged in, finding that she rather enjoyed them actually. But it was rare that she was allowed to listen, so she felt a glimmer of envy at Blaise's inclusion. Regardless, she was currently enjoying herself with Draco and Theo, too much so to be bothered throwing tantrums of envy._

 _"Whoever catches O, gets a kiss from her!" Theo shouted, Octavia running even faster in response._

 _Almost seconds after Theo had declared the prize of the game, Octavia squealed as she was tackled to the grass. Her capturer had evidently employed full speed to catch her before his competitor._

 _Octavia erupted into a fit of giggles as she successfully squirmed out of the arms that embraced her, attempting to crawl away as quickly as she could before he snatched her ankle. Octavia squealed and giggled as she wrestled with Draco, his snatching of her limbs gentle and playful. Wiggling around on the grass, Octavia kicked her feet out at a grinning Draco as he tried to pin her down, Theo standing with his arms cross over his chest, frowning as he watched the scene unfold._

 _Hands snatched at her flailing legs, yanking her toward him as she lay on her back, laughing brilliantly. Draco grinned as he swiftly lowered himself on top of her, his weight holding her down as she squirmed and giggled._

 _"I win," Draco grinned, swooping down and stealing a kiss from her rosy cheek._


	27. Chapter 27

Standing in the snowy field by Hagrid's hut, Octavia gazed vacantly at the trees of the Forbidden Forest, images flashing in her mind, voices echoing in her ears. Her lips were parted slightly, her eyelids blinking occasionally with slow movements, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. The white winter robe that adorned her was untied, billowing in the icy winter wind that cascaded over her, but she didn't feel it. She didn't feel the cold. She only felt the anguish.

 _'_ _We don't love you, Octavia.' Mediana hissed, her eerie voice penetrating Octavia's mind. Slicing at her soul. 'You are nothing to me, child. Nothing.'_

Octavia didn't notice the tears that stung at her blank hazel eyes, nor the single tear that trickled down her rosy cheek. She did not notice that her winter robes were untied, the icy breeze washing over her. Her body remained still, her nose red and runny from the coldness of the snowy day, her ungloved hands red and stinging from the frosty air. Damp blonde curls fluttered around her rosy face, strands repeatedly hitting her the face. But she didn't notice.

 _'_ _How could you believe that we love you, foolish girl?' Leonardo mocked, his haunting voice empty and void of life. 'You are nothing but a pawn in our family; existing only to strengthen our empire. But it seems that you cannot even do that. You fail at everything, mudblood.'_

People were speaking to her; calling her name repeatedly. But she didn't hear it. She didn't hear the students attempting to catch her attention. She didn't hear the soothing words of Hermione Granger. She only heard the voices.

 _'_ _You are not my sister,' Blaise whispered, his voice almost lost in the sharp and whipping gust of wind. 'Nothing but a filthy squib. No one will save you from him. No one cares.'_

"I did not come here to be ignored, insolent child!" The authoritative voice of the Bloody Baron boomed around her.

She heard it.

Blinking back to reality, Octavia slowly turned her head, meeting the concerned and interested gazes of her fellow club members. She merely stared at the cluster of students, seeing them … but not really.

Her billowing tight curls were spotted with fallen snowflakes, her hazel eyes slowly lighting up as she took in her surroundings. The Bloody Baron. Hermione. Luna. Students.

Where was she again? Why were they here?

Oh. She was in the field, the students watching her with intrigue, patiently waiting for her to begin the lesson.

The lesson.

What was the point?

There was none.

Octavia's gaze rested on Hermione for a moment before she sighed quietly. Hermione pursed her lips, her brown eyes shining with concern, as Octavia turned and slowly walked away. Leaving the field with lazy and undetermined steps.

The students did not follow her. They watched with fascination and concern as the wizard-born appeared to be in a trance, wandering aimlessly, away from the field.

Clearing her throat, Hermione turned and attempted to remain authoritative, successfully garnering the attention of half of the club members.

"Octavia doesn't appear to be feeling well today," Hermione stated loudly. "We will conduct the meeting without her."

The students nodded in agreement, all eager to observe and converse with the Bloody Baron. Hermione and Luna plastered on fake smiles as the students came closer, the ghost floating above the snow-covered grass as he prepared to deliver his practiced speech.

* * *

Draco stood on the stone steps at the castle entrance, his thick winter robes adorning his muscular body. His eyes, almost as cold as the winter air, watched the vacant wizard-born stroll away from the club meeting, walking aimlessly around the castle grounds instead. He almost sighed.

Perhaps he was foolish to not consider the aftereffects of her punishment prior to enacting it. Perhaps he underestimated her dismal strength. He knew, however, that he was to blame. Partially, at least.

Octavia would not have been punished, had she of done nothing wrong to begin with. So he was hardly the only one at fault. Right?

Then why did he fear her evident trauma? Trauma that still plagued the squib, despite her punishment ending a week ago. A terribly long and dreadful week, in his hesitant opinion.

For a week, Draco observed and assessed his wizard-born. The majority of the time, she was herself. She was lively and brilliant. Even, at times, masking her hurt and misery with feigned smiles and empty laughter. But occasionally, he would witness the current scene before him. He would watch as she fell into a trance, unable to grasp her real surroundings. Evidently lost in the horror that she endured with the Boggart.

Perhaps with time, Octavia would overcome her traumatic experience. He hoped so. For the guilt that he felt in her dazed moments was near-crippling.

But why should he pity her? Why should he regret his actions? It was through no fault of his own that she was punished. He had to do it. Didn't she see that? How could she expect to betray him without consequences? Was it truly his fault?

No.

If only he could convince himself.

Despite the doubt, Draco couldn't help but want to punish her further. His fingers twitched in his pockets, on the verge of cruio'ing the girl that wandered around the almost-vacant castle grounds. But he didn't succumb to the powerful urge.

The urge, however, coursed through his veins, reigniting his fury as he watched her. She wasn't doing anything to provoke him in that moment, but his thoughts travelled back to his realisation of the one she chose over him. Cedric Fucking Diggory.

It was simply revolting and completely illogical. Draco's wealth was the greatest of all purebloods in the UK and Europe. He could buy her everything and anything she could ever want. Yet she chose a pauper pureblood. It was maddening and thoroughly perplexed Draco.

Octavia was a materialistic girl; what was she thinking? Cedric could never provide for her. Yes, he could provide the basics; food and a home. But Octavia deserved so much more than that. She was princess, not a peasant. She deserved riches and all that it could offer her.

Draco recalled the infuriating conversation he eavesdropped on in _The Three Broomsticks_ months ago. The conversation between Octavia and Dickory about her contract and their evolving relationship. He had to stop it. He thought he had.

It was the very reason that Draco placed an offer on Octavia's contract. He knew that, by doing so, Leonardo Zabini would reject all other offers, including Diggory's. Draco had assumed that Octavia and Diggory's relationship would have been thwarted in the process. How foolish of him to assume. For it appeared that he was very wrong indeed.

Draco's offer, however, quickly spiralled out of control. Once he was wrongly certain that he had prevented Octavia and Diggory from entering into a relationship, he kept his offer in place with Leonardo. It was then that he was supposed to revoke his offer, but he did the opposite. He initiated further contact with the Zabini patriarch, and entered into negotiations.

It had surprised Draco, at the time. For it was during this time that he had come to realise his true desires. He wanted much more than to have Octavia unwed. He wanted much more than her eternal unhappiness. He realised exactly what he wanted. Her.

And Draco Malfoy always got what he wanted.

* * *

Hermione was simply exhausted. Her constant efforts to cheer up her friend that snowy Sunday all appeared to be futile. Octavia sat on Hermione's bed, flicking through a gossip magazine, her pained hazel eyes not really seeing the pages in front of her.

"We can make hot chocolates and sit by the fire?" Hermione offered, seating herself on the edge of the bed.

Octavia shrugged before flipping over the page of her gossip rag.

"Is that your mum?" Hermione asked, scooting closer to the magazine.

Octavia smiled weakly, nodding as the two girls observed the moving picture of Mediana Zabini. The paparazzi had evidently snapped her with Narcissa Malfoy, both women attending a fashion show in New York City.

Allowing her gaze to linger over her mother's stoic and graceful face a moment longer, Octavia sighed before tossing the magazine onto the nightstand.

"Got anything stronger than hot chocolate?"

"No," Hermione smiled as Octavia made herself comfortable. "We could always go to the Gryffindor Party."

"We have class in the morning," Octavia frowned, eyeing her usually uptight friend suspiciously.

"We can go for an hour," Hermione shrugged, willing to endure a hangover in order to cheer up her downcast friend.

Octavia pursed her lips as she considered the option, finding that it possessed appeal as Draco would not be in attendance. He would never partake in the celebrations of Gryffindor winning the latest Quidditch match against Ravenclaw.

"I'll let you do my makeup," Hermione sang, grinning widely as Octavia lit up.

She was officially convinced.

"Ok," Octavia grinned, jumping off the bed. "Is Blaise in his room?"

"Why?" Hermione frowned.

"I need a Slytherin to get my makeup from my dorm room obviously," Octavia rolled her eyes. "I'm not walking through that common room with my stuff- my cosmetics alone are worth more than everything Millie has!"

"Oh," Hermione nodded, relaxing visibly. "Yes, I think he is in his bedroom."

* * *

He quirked his brow as he eyed his demanding sister, Blaise reclining in his chair, drumming his fingers against his desk patiently. He watched as she whined and sulked around his room, occasionally kicking over his belongings in one of her frequent tantrums. Although, considering she was not reduced to tears, her tantrum would be considered rather mild.

Blaise had every intention of granting her request, but he daren't agree too quickly. Octavia appeared to be acting like her classic-self for the first time in a week, shouting and whining around his bedroom, and Blaise was determined to maintain her regular behaviour for as long as possible. The more he teased and provoked her, the more normally she reacted. Also, causing his sister to act like a petulant brat was definitely entertaining, to say the least. A favourite past-time, one could say.

"You're so annoying!" Octavia screeched, stomping her foot for effect. "Just get my stuff for me, Blaise!"

"I am busy," Blaise drawled coolly, glancing at his stack of assignments on the desk.

"So?" Octavia hissed, crossing her arms over her chest as she glowered at her brother. "It'll seriously only take you twenty minutes and then you can get back to your precious homework."

"Do you think it wise to attend a party, as opposed to paying attention to your own assignments?"

"I have extensions for them all," Octavia mumbled, slowly pushing over a pile of books, staring him dead in the eye as she did so.

Blaise sighed, reclining in his chair as he pretended to consider her request. He knew exactly why she did not retrieve her belongings by herself, and could hardly blame his frightened sister for it. There was no doubt in Blaise's mind that she would be a walking target if she carted dresses, shoes and cosmetics through the Slytherin common room. Perhaps a target for Draco, or, more likely, Millicent.

Millicent Bulstrode was obviously envious of Octavia for several reasons; one being Octavia's grand and expensive belongings. The Bulstrodes were a wealthy family of sorts, but in no way compared to the wealth of the Zabinis. So it was hardly a stretch to suspect that Millicent would take the presented opportunity and destroy more of Octavia's costly possessions.

Blaise's dark eyes followed his sulky sister around the bedroom, watching silently as she continued to create mess and disorder. He smiled as she reached the desk he sat at, ready to knock over his framed pictures, but stopped once her attention was caught by a photograph of the two of them.

Octavia picked up the framed picture of the twins, eyeing the moving photograph with a soft smile. A younger Blaise and Octavia ran around the Manor gardens, hurling snowballs at one another without mercy, both laughing and grinning with glee.

"That's sweet," Octavia smiled at the photograph before purposely dropping it onto the floor. "Oops."

Blaise grinned as he stood, finding his sister's normal behaviour to be rather enjoyable. For it meant that she was slowly coming back to her regular-self.

"Any apparel in particular?" Blaise asked, waving his hand to correct his messy bedroom.

Octavia beamed, clapping her hands together in triumph. Going entirely unscolded by her chuckling brother.

* * *

For the first time in a week, Octavia found herself laughing naturally as Harry and Ron sang along with the music in their intoxicated states. For the entire week, her laughs and smiles were feigned, dimmed by her incessant misery. Only pretending to be happy and overcoming her trauma. But it was all an act.

For inside, deep within her soul and heart, Octavia was broken. Slowly, piece by piece, shard by shard, she was healing. It was never clearer in that moment as she forgot her worries and misery, completely captured by the ambiance of the Gryffindor common room.

A mixture of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, with the odd Slytherin or two, filled the lively common room, all joyously participating in a variety of dances and drinking games. Octavia had to admit that she found herself to be quite shocked at the sight of Pansy Parkinson at the party, who appeared to be on a date of sorts with Dean Thomas. Which completely baffled O, for Dean was supposed to be dating Ginny Weasley. And Ginny was supposedly dating Harry in secret.

Jeez. A week out of the loop and Octavia had no idea what was going on around her. For once, she didn't possess every scrap of gossip within the castle walls. Not a great feeling, she decided. In fact, Octavia almost felt a little robbed that she wasn't privy to the secrets of Hogwarts. It left a rather bitter taste in her mouth.

Although the bitterness was laced with triumph. For Octavia had managed to doll-up Hermione to an acceptable level without much resistance from her bookworm bestie.

Hermione stood at a nearby table, partaking in a game of Butterbeer Pong, looking elegant and gorgeous as ever. The Head Girl wore Octavia's smart two-toned dress, strappy heels adorning her feet. Her wild curls were tamed with 'Frizz-Away!' potions, now sleek and straight, pulled back into a casual bun. It was hardly a 'sexy' outfit, but was chic and flattering all the same.

Octavia, on the other hand, went all out. A blue sparkly dress adorned her slender body, resembling somewhat of a princess gown that stopped midway down her smooth thighs. Silver heels graced her feet, featuring crystal zig-zagging straps, her perfectly manicured toes visible. Octavia's mother had purchased the dress a year ago almost, but O had never found the opportunity to wear it. While she was definitely overdressed for the party in the Gryffindor common room, O hardly cared about that; she was as happy as a Pygmy Puff, sporting her sparkly dress.

"O!" Harry shouted, running toward the wizard-born sitting by herself. "O, come on!"

Octavia smiled as Harry grabbed her wrist and hauled her over to a busy table, drunken students laughing and roaring around her. He had escorted her to the same table that Hermione occupied, a clutter of students surrounding the odd game. Apparently it was a muggle party game tweaked to fit the Wizarding World. But the only Wizarding thing Octavia assessed about the game, was that butterbeer was in use.

Red plastic cups were placed in two perfect triangular shapes, all filled to the brim with cheap butterbeer. Harry shoved her toward the end of the table and handed her a small white ball, only a tad bigger than a golden snitch.

"You have to bounce it on the table, and get it to land in one of those cups." Harry explained, the muggle-borns watching the pureblood Zabini heiress with undiluted interest.

It was certainly a sight to behold; a pureblood princess – regardless of her wizard-born status – about to participate in muggle games.

"Ok," Octavia frowned, thinking that it sounded rather impossible. "It has to bounce on the table?" Octavia asked, finding that it would be much easier to just toss the ball directly into the cups.

"Yeah," Harry grinned, watching as the prissy girl pouted.

Octavia suddenly felt a wave of unease as Pansy approached the table slowly, her eyes fixed on the wizard-born. Fuck. Perhaps Pansy would tell on her? Her parents might not care that she participated in a muggle game, but she couldn't be sure. They were hot and cold with the idea of muggles, in Octavia's experience. Her parents weren't exactly racist, but they had no interest in or respect for muggle cultures in the slightest.

Exhaling a puff of air, Octavia raised her hand, the white ball clutched loosely by her slender fingers, eyeing the cups on the opposite end of the table with narrowed eyes.

Tossing the ball at the centre of the table, Octavia watched in anticipation as it bounced and soared over to the red cups before plopping right into one.

Octavia squealed in delight, beaming brilliantly as her opponent – Cormac McLagan – picked out the ball and gulped down the carbonated substance. Pansy's stare did not falter in the slightest, the brunette regarding the happy wizard-born with palpable interest.

McLagan stepped to the side, having lost his round in the game, Pansy pushing her way through the students importantly, taking his place. She wasn't next in line to compete, but the other team said nothing about it. All students surrounding the table glanced between the two pureblood girls in amazement, thoroughly enjoying the peculiar sight.

"Game on," Pansy smirked, picking up the white ball and staring O dead in the eyes.

Octavia couldn't help but feel that Pansy was being … playful. Not threatening or mischievous. _Playful_. Like she used to be, back before Hogwarts. Perhaps it was due to the absence of the other seventh year Slytherins?

Pansy bounced the ball on the table, both girls watching as it hit the edge of a cup and spun around the circular rim before dropping into the butterbeer.

Bummer.

Octavia sighed as she picked up the cup and removed the ball, eyeing the cheap butterbeer with distaste. She liked butterbeer, but her tastes were a little more on the expensive side. She would have really liked this game, had it used honeywine instead.

Pansy smirked in triumph as Octavia downed the putrid bubbly liquid, her face scrunched up in disgust as others laughed and cheered around her. O coughed as she placed the cup to the side and stepped away, allowing Hermione to take a turn. But she didn't stay to watch the match between the ex-bestie and current-bestie.

The moment Octavia spotted Lavender Brown put down her bottle of honeywine and sneak out of the portrait door, Octavia scurried off, her determined gaze fixed on the bottle of sweet liquid.

* * *

Hours into the party, and Octavia had learned that she still possessed absolutely no self-control whatsoever. She lay sprawled out on the sofa, an empty bottle of honeywine grasped loosely in her hand as the room spun around her. The desire to return to her dormitories was growing stronger and stronger by the minute, but she didn't submit. For returning to her dormitories in her current state had the potential to be catastrophic.

Instead of departing the Gryffindor common room, Octavia remained on the sofa and listened to the buzz of the party raging on around her. Hermione was currently sloshed entirely, playing a game that consisted of continuously flipping cups over. It was rather odd. Even odder; Pansy was participating.

In her inebriated state, Octavia hoped that she wouldn't forget the incriminating information on her fellow pureblood. It was always handy to possess dirt on your fellow purebloods. Although, Pansy had the same gossip on her; participating in muggle games. Regardless, it could come in handy at some point.

As if sensing O's mischievous eyes on her, Pansy turned and met her gaze from across the room. They assessed one another for a few moments before Pansy forfeited the muggle game and approached O on the sofa.

Instantly cautious of her approaching former friend, Octavia frowned as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, eyeing the stunning brunette warily.

"Hey," Pansy smiled, seating herself next to Octavia elegantly. "How are you?"

Octavia didn't answer, continuing to frown at the girl as though she had sprouted a second head.

"I heard about the Boggart incident." Pansy continued, sympathy shining in her eyes.

Octavia swallowed down a vicious retort, finding that 'incident' hardly fitted her traumatic experience appropriately.

"What do you want, Pansy?" Octavia asked coolly, slurring her words as the room continued to sway.

"I only wish to know how you are coping –"

"Pansy," Octavia scowled, interrupting the girl sternly. "What do you want?"

Pansy sighed, placing her hands in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankles.

"Fine. I want to know if you are going to inform my parents that I attended this party and participated in muggle games."

Octavia smirked, eyeing the somewhat nervous girl intently, processing her options. Of course, Octavia could definitely notify Pansy's racist parents about their daughter's behaviour, but that would only backfire. For Pansy would no doubt retaliate and do the same with Octavia's parents. Whilst Pansy's punishment would certainly be more severe, given the viciously negative sentiments her parents harboured for muggles and muggle-borns, Octavia would still be berated by her own. It was unseemly for ladies of their standing to entertain factions of muggle cultures in any way at all.

"I won't if you won't." Octavia shrugged.

Pansy nodded, her tense body relaxing visibly as the two girls fell into an awkward silence.

Preparing to remove herself from the uncomfortable situation, Octavia made to push herself from the sofa before Pansy spoke again.

"Are you excited for the vacation in the French Alps?" Pansy asked, attempting to continue their conversation for reasons unknown to Octavia.

"Not really," Octavia mumbled, absolutely loathing the annual get-togethers at the Parkinson Château in the South of France. "You?"

Pansy laughed elegantly before nodding in agreement. "I must say, I share your lack of excitement."

This perplexed Octavia instantly, for Pansy had no reason to dislike the family gatherings. Pansy was welcomed by their peers, unlike O who was their primary victim.

"Why?"

"Oh," Pansy sighed gracefully. "It becomes rather tedious at times; don't you think? We arrive, we ski, we eat, we rest and we dine. It is always the same, with different scenery."

"Yeah," O nodded, eyeing the girl curiously. She never would have thought that Pansy would share the same opinions as her when it came to their repetitive traditions.

"Then we endure our intoxicated parents discussing us, as though we are little more than objects to be sold to one another." Pansy continued, her eyes glazing over with sadness. "All the while, us ladies are expected to remain silent and be pretty."

"Or talk about clothes," Octavia added.

"Yes," Pansy smiled sadly. "I do enjoy fashion, but it is not my preferred topic of discussion."

"What would you rather talk about?"

"I don't know," Pansy laughed. "Anything that is restricted to us, really."

"Politics?" Octavia asked, quirking her brow.

"No," Pansy shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. "Most certainly not."

"Then what?"

"Freedom, perhaps?" Pansy answered, glancing at the muggle-borns across the room. "The freedom that we are not blessed with."

"We can never have that." Octavia said, following Pansy's gaze to the laughing muggle-borns.

"They do not know how blessed they are," Pansy whispered, almost talking to herself. "They can pursue whatever they desire, not requiring permission."

Octavia nodded, understanding completely. At present, as unmarried girls, their fathers were essentially in control of everything they did. Their fathers would only cease total rule over their daughters once they married, their husbands then entirely in charge. Outsiders regularly assumed that pureblooded women had the perfect lives, never having to worry about finances, and travelling the world whenever they pleased. But it was not like that at all.

If a pureblood lady wished to dine out with her friends, or vacation with others, her husband would have to grant permission. Their husbands would be entirely in control of everything their wives did. They decided everything; from when to reproduce, to how often; from who their wives associated with, to how often they left the home. A woman's food at a restaurant was even ordered for her by her father or husband. The men controlled absolutely everything.

To girls like Pansy and Octavia, there was no such thing as freedom. It was merely an unattainable dream. An illusion that would never become a reality.

Although … Were they not free in that moment?

"We have freedom right now, if you think about it." Octavia smirked. "Our fathers aren't here, and no other pureblood Slytherins are here. It's just us and the Gryffindors."

Pansy grinned deviously, catching on to her former friend's implications.

The two girls stood from the sofa, making their way over to the muggle game tables, prepared to join in wholeheartedly, and get entirely plastered in the process.

A display of defiance. A taste of freedom.

Even if it was only for a night.

* * *

Blaise strolled through the quiet corridors of the castle, well after curfew. His patrol had been completed little more than an hour ago, yet he still wandered around Hogwarts. Perhaps in hope of seeing Granger? For it was a school night, yet Granger had yet to return to the Head Dormitories.

Blaise knew this for he had checked by asking the portrait animals during his extended patrol three times. It was rather strange for Granger to stay out passed curfew in favour of partying. Yes, it was clear to Blaise that she was only doing so in an attempt to cheer Octavia up. But still, Blaise was slightly concerned.

Was it concern? Perhaps it was simply an urge to know of her actions at all times? For at a party, slick with alcoholic beverages, who knew what would or could transpire. Perhaps she entertained another?

Probably one of her bodyguards, Potter and Weasel.

The thought caused his blood to run cold in his veins, his dark eyes blackening as his fists clenched in his trouser pockets. Suddenly, Blaise found himself patrolling the Gryffindor Tower for the countless time that night.

He hadn't intentionally ventured to the Tower that night, yet he found himself there frequently. Blaise put his peculiar behaviour down to the fact that his sister was presumably still in attendance at the Gryffindor party. Yes. That was it. Definitely not because Granger was still there, in the wee hours of the morning. No.

Definitely not.

Blaise heaved a weary sigh as he faced the Fat Lady portrait to the Gryffindor common room, rubbing his hands over his tired face. Maybe Granger had already left, and was safe and sound in her bed? It was possible that she had already departed the Gryffindor common room and returned to their shared quarters. He could have been patrolling another part of the castle when she left. It was possible.

Yet, Blaise remained rooted to the spot, considering returning to the Head dorms to consult with the portrait once more. Or he could stay where he was and wait? What if she did come out, however, as he waited? What would he say? How could he justify his presence in the Gryffindor Tower, long after his patrol had ended?

Blaise was swiftly pulled from his thoughts as the sound of heels clacked against the spiral staircase behind him. Turning around to face the arriving student, Blaise felt disappointment flicker inside of him as he realised the identity of the student; Lavender Brown, looking quite dishevelled and thoroughly fucked.

"Blaise," Lavender purred, attempting to be seductive.

Blaise almost shuddered in disgust. Did the girl have no shame? Apparently not.

He didn't let his repulsion show, however. He saw the opportunity, and took full advantage of it.

"Lavender," Blaise smirked, a charming air surrounding the aristocrat. "Having a pleasant evening, I hope?"

"Always when you are around," Lavender giggled, tottering toward him in oversized stilettos.

"Did you not have an accident due to those very shoes?" Blaise asked with concern, Lavender blushing instantly.

"Beauty is pain, Blaise." Lavender winked, attempting to conceal her embarrassment.

"Then you must constantly be in total agony," Blaise grinned.

Lavender bit her lip, the action looking rather repulsive on the girl. Only a select few girls could pull off the gesture, and Lavender was not one of them. Her mouth almost swallowed her thin bottom lip, far too many upper teeth visible.

"I wonder if you could do me a favour," Blaise drawled, his dark eyes charming the whorish girl.

"Of course," Lavender beamed.

"I wish to retrieve my sister and the Head Girl from the common room, but as I do not know the password, I am unable to do so."

Lavender instantly deflated from the mention of Hermione Granger and Octavia Zabini, her dislike for the girls evident in her fleeting scowl.

"Why?" Lavender frowned.

"The Head Girl has duties to attend to," Blaise lied flawlessly. "My sister, however, should not be at this party."

"Octavia's in trouble?" Lavender asked, brightening up considerably.

"Indeed," Blaise smirked.

"Alright!" Lavender beamed before rushing over to the portrait and gaining entry.

Blaise waited only a minute before a drunken and swaying Granger exited the common room, her unfocused eyes fixed on Blaise as she stumbled over the threshold.

"What do you want?" Hermione grumbled before hiccupping.

"It is passed curfew, Granger." Blaise drawled. "The fun is over."

"Says who?"

"Me," Blaise retorted, his tone stern and commanding. "You either return to the Head Dormitories, or I will shut down the party. Your decision, Granger."

Hermione frowned, swaying on the spot, her drunken state evident in her hooded eyes. It appeared that she was barely able to maintain consciousness, let alone stand.

"Where is Octavia?" Blaise asked coolly.

"Playing games with Pansy Parkinson," Hermione shrugged.

Blaise quirked his brow as he digested the surprising information. It would be best to leave his sister to potentially rebuild her friendship with another pureblood, but he would prefer to assure her safety.

The portrait swung open, an inebriated Octavia tottering through the doorway as she burped and giggled to herself.

"What's up, homie?" Octavia asked before erupting into a fit of giggles, attempting to speak through the laughter. "It means friend. Homie … Homeskillet!"

Hermione stifled a laugh, finding that muggle slang was quite hilarious coming from a pureblood princess like O.

"Homie," Octavia repeated, laughing brilliantly at her own dismal humour.

Blaise sighed, shaking his head slightly as he raised his hand and beckoned his messy sister over to him. Octavia tottered over, still giggling, as heavy footsteps sounded out, coming from the spiral staircase.

"Douchebaguette," Octavia snickered, Hermione laughing loudly behind her. "You're a douchebaguette."

"Are you quite finished?" Blaise drawled, his brow quirked as he regarded his hysterical sister.

The footsteps drew nearer, Blaise seemingly the only one of the trio who noticed. He turned as the two girls continued to laugh as Octavia repeated newly learned words, Draco Malfoy approaching from the staircase.

"Draco," Blaise acknowledged, Octavia instantly sobering and following her brother's gaze with wide eyes. "Out after curfew, and in the Gryffindor Tower no less. How peculiar."

Draco regarded the hiccupping wizard-born for a moment before moving his cold gaze to Blaise.

"I am merely returning this," Draco drawled, pulling out a cheap lipstick from his pocket, "to Lavender Brown."

"Prat," Hermione muttered, her narrowed eyes on a stoic Draco.

Octavia stifled a snicker, her lips pressed firmly together to prevent a wide grin from gracing her face.

"Convenient," Blaise clipped, eyeing Draco harshly.

"Fortunate for you, it appears," Draco retorted, glancing between the two drunken girls. "It would seem that you require assistance."

"I can manage it alone, thank you." Blaise snipped, right before Hermione groaned, leaning against the stone wall.

"Is the castle moving?" Hermione moaned. "Why is it moving? Tell it to stop."

Octavia nodded in agreement, Blaise sighing in response.

Draco stepped toward Octavia as she hiccupped, her wide eyes gazing up at him with fear. She winced as he suddenly wrapped his arms around her, hauling her up against him, carrying her bridal-style.

"Put me down, buttnugget!" Octavia demanded, squirming in his tight hold.

Blaise clenched his jaw as he regarded Draco for a moment before following suit with Granger.

Hermione was equally as unimpressed as Octavia at being lifted up and carried away from the party, both girls complaining incessantly between hiccups and groans.

Octavia employed a string of newly learned insults, none of which Draco understood. He caught the general gist of it, however, dismissing her disobedience as little more than liquid courage and foolishness.

During the trip back to the Head Dormitories, it wasn't long before Octavia passed out, snoring in Draco's arms as Hermione continued to berate Blaise in a slur of indecipherable words.

"Florence and the Machines," Blaise stated as they reached the slumbering animals in the portrait of the Head Dormitories.

Draco quirked his brow at Blaise who shrugged and glanced at a scowling Hermione in his arms, indicating that the Head Girl had chosen the password.

The portrait door swung open, both pureblooded men strolling into the common room, carrying the girls in their arms. Hermione continued to scowl in silence as Blaise carried her up the stairs to her bedroom, pushing through the door before depositing the drunken girl in her bed.

"Sweet dreams, lioness." Blaise smirked before exiting the bedroom.

He would have preferred to stay and make a show of tucking her in, just to rile up the independent muggle-born, but he daren't leave his unconscious sister with Draco for another moment. Once Blaise arrived in the common room, his heart began to beat rapidly as he saw no sign of his sister or Draco, his dark eyes flicking around the room as though he would spot them in a corner somewhere.

Blaise noticed that his own bedroom door was ajar, quickly taking off at a sprint toward his private chambers. His fear dissipated instantly as he stood at the ajar door, watching Draco place a snoring O into Blaise's bed. Remaining unnoticed in the doorway, Blaise watched as Draco removed her shoes delicately, evidently being careful to not wake the girl, before tucking her into the blankets and adjusting the pillow beneath her luscious curls. Draco ran his knuckles over her rosy cheek as he regarded her silently, his grey eyes fixed on her tranquil expression.

Blaise's brows raised as his sister snorted before mumbling 'buttnugget' in her sleep, Draco smiling fleetingly. The blonde pureblood lowered himself, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before straightening and glancing at her once more.

As Draco turned to exit the bedroom, he clenched his jaw as he realised Blaise's presence at the doorway, before strolling out of the bedroom and quietly shutting the door behind him.

"You can sleep on the sofa," Draco drawled before descending the staircase and departing the Head Dormitories, presumably returning to the Slytherin Dungeons.

Blaise hummed as the portrait door swung shut, making his way over to the relatively comfortable sofa.

His snoring and drooling sister in the room to his left, momentarily safe from Draco's dormant wrath, and his forbidden love in the room to his right, permanently safe from Blaise's true feelings.


	28. Chapter 28

In only her black lace underwear, Octavia lay on the bed, flat on her tummy as she painted her fingernails, using an old piece of parchment to prevent the liquid from staining the sheets. Cedric sat beside her, leaning back against the headboard as he graded papers, only the sheets shielding his nudity.

Octavia had retried sex with Cedric a few times over the past fortnight, but found that it was still not meeting her expectations. Whilst it no longer caused her pain, she found that she had to fake her orgasms at least three times, leaving her thoroughly unsatisfied. It was a shame, really. For Octavia had always been quite excited at the prospect of sex, assuming that she would achieve her climax through the act alone. It appeared that she had been wrong, however. One time, she even had to excuse herself to the bathroom and finish herself off in the shower before rejoining her boyfriend in bed.

Regardless, Octavia continued to offer Cedric her body, despite the lack of pleasure for herself, and she knew the very reason why. Octavia felt somewhat responsible in betraying Cedric yet again, with Draco. In the infirmary, three weeks ago, Draco had forced a kiss onto her unwilling lips. While she had attempted to escape his kiss, she was unable to due to his grasp on her neck. Even so, she could have fought harder. She could have slapped him like she had months ago in the Head common room. But she didn't, and therefore, Octavia felt somehow to blame for the betrayal.

On top of that, Draco had escorted her back to the Head Dormitories from the Gryffindor Tower two weeks ago. That one wasn't so bad, really. But still. Octavia had passed out in his arms, allowing her safety to lay in the hands of the very man who locked her in a closet with a Boggart. She was simply out of her damn mind. Even if she was sloshed, it was no excuse to allow him to touch her in any way at all. And it sure as hell didn't make her feel any better knowing that Draco had tucked her into Blaise's bed that night. Acting as though he _cared_ about her comfort. Which he obviously didn't.

Cedric did. Cedric cared about her comfort _and_ wellbeing.

"Here," Octavia said, handing a preoccupied Cedric her nail-polish. "Can you do my toes? I always stuff them up."

Cedric kept his eyes on the assignments he was grading, frowning fleetingly before he responded. "Can't you get a pedicure?"

"Uh … Last time I checked, there was no salon in the castle, so no." Octavia scowled, tossing the bottle at him.

"I'm busy, Octavia." Cedric mumbled, flicking the nail-polish bottle off his stack of parchment.

"Fine," Octavia hissed, grabbing the bottle and preparing to paint her toenails by herself.

Cedric didn't respond or even glance at his moody girlfriend as she made a dramatic show of inconvenience, occasionally huffing and muttering under her breath. He didn't pay her strop any mind, probably not even noticing it at all. Octavia sighed as she watched him be engrossed by his work, finding that she craved a little attention in that moment.

"Did you RSVP?" Octavia asked, attempting to gain his attention.

"Sorry?" Cedric sighed, turning his annoyed gaze to O as she painted her toenails delicately.

"To the Banquet invite," Octavia murmured, concentrating intently. "Did you RSVP?"

"Yes," Cedric said, returning his attention to the assignments. "I also owled your father and advised him that I would be late to the event."

"Late?" Octavia frowned. "Why will you be late?"

"I have a prior commitment that night that I need to attend," Cedric answered distractedly.

"What kind of event?"

"A Bachelor Party."

Instantly, Octavia's face contorted into a scowl, eyeing Cedric with narrowed eyes.

"You didn't tell me about that," Octavia said in deadly tone.

"I am telling you now, am I not?"

"Yeah but … that's not the same as telling me before," Octavia scoffed.

"Is there an issue, Octavia?" Cedric patronised, not taking his eyes off the assignments as he continued to grade them.

"No," Octavia frowned in annoyance. "When will you get to the Banquet? You have to be there before the courting dances start."

"I will be there for the dance," Cedric assured disinterestedly. "I should arrive shortly after 9pm. 10pm at the latest."

"Ok," Octavia nodded. "The dances start at eleven, though. So just … please don't be too late …"

Cedric sighed, scribbling notes of feedback on the essays. "I will not be any later than 10pm, as I said."

Octavia nodded, hoping that he held true to his word. While he was not attending the event as her escort, he was her assigned partner for the courting dance. As a potential suitor with an offer in place, Cedric was eligible to join her at the end of the dance, signifying his interest in her contract publically. Only potential suitors whose offers were being considered at the time, could dance with the debutantes.

Her father had agreed to Cedric joining her in the dance, as he claimed that her other suitor would be dancing with another debutante. Apparently this other suitor had an offer in place for another's contract. That was fine in Octavia's book, though. Her father would see Cedric's faithfulness to her contract, evidently not entertaining other contracts, and possibly choose him as her husband come graduation.

If Cedric did not arrive on time, however, Octavia would be left to carry out the dance solo, whilst everyone watched on. It would be the most humiliating thing without a doubt. She would probably cry and run away. Who wouldn't?

"Do you have the robes for the event?" Octavia asked.

The formal robes were expected to be of the upmost quality, most lower-class pureblood families not owning the correct attire.

"I will purchase them during the Christmas Break," Cedric answered.

"I can buy them, if you want?" Octavia offered, eyeing her painted toenails intently, searching for any smudges.

"I am not that poor, Octavia." Cedric laughed, ruffling her curls before turning his attention back to the assignments.

Octavia scowled, righting her dishevelled mop of curls.

"So," Octavia sighed, squirming around to get comfortable on the bed. "What are you doing over the Christmas Break? What're your family doing?"

"The usual," Cedric answered distractedly. "We have parties every Christmas Eve, a quiet Christmas Day, and on Boxing Day, I go to Zach Smith's. It's sort of a tradition, I suppose."

"What do you do at Smith's? Who else goes?"

"Everyone from the old group at Hogwarts," Cedric explained. "We usually just play Quidditch and drink."

"The old group, huh?" Octavia narrowed her eyes. "Wasn't Cho in that group?"

"Yes," Cedric nodded. "She will be there."

"Oh," Octavia scowled, Cedric continuing to grade papers. "You're still friends, then? That's nice."

Cedric nodded slightly, his attention predominantly on marking the assignments. Completely oblivious to O's jealousy and narrowed hazel eyes.

"But you spend Christmas Day with your family, yeah?" Octavia asked lightly, removing the sourness from her expression.

"Yes."

"That's nice."

"Yes."

Octavia pursed her lips, obviously fishing for an invite from her oblivious boyfriend.

"Does your mum cook, or do you have house-elves?" Octavia asked, still hoping for an invite.

It would be nice to meet his parents, considering they had been dating for months now. After all, he was to meet hers at the Banquet. It only seemed fair.

"My mother is in Azkaban," Cedric sighed, his quill stopping for a moment.

"What?" Octavia gasped. "Why? What did she do?"

"Nothing," Cedric responded. "She did nothing of her own free will."

"Then … why is she in Azkaban?"

"She was imperiused during the war," Cedric spat bitterly. "We were not wealthy enough to buy her freedom, unlike most of the willing Death Eaters."

"Oh," Octavia blinked, her lips parted and forming an 'O' shape. "That's horrible."

"It is."

"How … Can you appeal her sentence?"

"We cannot afford the process or legal fees," Cedric answered dryly.

"How much does it cost?"

"The entire process?" Cedric scoffed. "Perhaps several hundred thousand galleons, and that's just to have the appeal with lawyers."

"What do you mean?"

"The other Death Eaters – the _real_ ones – payed Ministry official off in order to avoid Azkaban." Cedric said, his tone bitter and cold. "They spent a lot more than a few hundred thousand galleons, without a doubt."

Octavia nodded, feeling a wave of pity for Cedric and his mother. But she couldn't help but feel a little downcast that he hadn't told her this sooner. They had been together for months now, she had given him her virginity and fought vigorously to have his offer considered. All the while, he had kept this information from her.

Perhaps he hadn't concealed the information, however, so much as didn't find the opportunity to tell her? She hoped so. Perhaps, if they were to get married, her father would agree to pay for the legal costs? It was possible. Money of that amount was certainly more than he would willingly give out, but it was still not a considerable amount to her family.

When the time was right, Octavia would plead with her father for the money to free Cedric's mother. If she waited until after their wedding, she was sure that he would consent.

But it all came down to timing. For if she asked her father prior to him accepting Cedric's contract, he would see Cedric as more of a liability than a potential suitor.

Timing was everything.

Speaking of timing …

"I should go," Octavia groaned, stretching out her limbs. "I need to finish packing."

"Ok," Cedric nodded, his attention returning to his assignments. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

Octavia frowned at him, hating that he didn't even make a move to kiss her goodbye. Sighing, she rolled off the bed and began to dress for her departure. It was true that she hadn't finished packing her belongings for the train ride home the next morning, but she also wanted to spend a little time with the Whomping Willow before the Christmas Break started.

A little farewell ritual of sorts that she performed each year. Funny that. She was performing an actual farewell with the Whomping Willow, and not her bloody boyfriend who appeared to be utterly disinterested. Prat.

* * *

It was a real shame that Hermione had to celebrate her birthday on the Hogwarts Express. Octavia knew from experience that celebrating your birthday away from your family was a lot less magical than with. Alas, Hermione's birthday had come and, given that it was the start of the Christmas Break, it was a rather quiet affair. Everyone was too submerged in the excitement of returning home to pay her birthday much attention.

Octavia sat in the Heads compartment of the steam train, swinging her legs leisurely as Hermione sat across from her, birthday gifts on the seat beside the Head Girl. The door to the compartment opened, Blaise hovering at the threshold as his gaze flickered between the two occupants.

"Am I granted permission to enter my own compartment now?" Blaise asked coolly, his narrowed eyes on his indifferent sister.

"Do what you want, _Stronzo_. No one cares."

Blaise rolled his eyes, given that it was Octavia that demanded he stay out of the compartment while Octavia gave her friend a birthday cake, claiming that he was not welcome to join them. Of course, she only did so _after_ she used his bedroom as storage space for Hermione's gifts over the past week.

Now the two large parcels lay unopened beside the Head Girl, a half-eaten cauldron cake on the small bench table between the two girls. Blaise approached the girls, depositing a gift-wrapped box on the bench table before seating himself on the sofa.

Hermione eyed the small gift that Blaise had just given her, before meeting his stoic gaze briefly.

"Open your presents, Ninny," Octavia demanded, kicking her friend on the leg.

Hermione nodded as she placed her parcels on the small bench table. Hermione moved her hands over to the extremely large box, delicately removing the ribbons and wrapping paper.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione successfully removed all of the expensive wrapping of the parcel before lifting the lid slowly.

A gasp escaped Hermione's parted lips as she gazed at the beautiful gown inside the parcel, Octavia beaming proudly at her reaction.

"It's for the Banquet," Octavia explained as Hermione stood and lifted the ball-gown from the box and held it against her. "It might not be something that you'd normally wear, but it's appropriate for the event."

"O!" Hermione breathed, her eyes alight with wonder. "This … It's so beautiful!"

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, eyeing the champagne-pink gown with envy.

As a debutante at the Banquet, Octavia was expected to wear a white gown to represent her 'purity' and availability. The married women wore black, and the younger and unavailable women – including guests like Hermione – wore colours. A colour-coded system to allow the men in the market for a bride an easier process.

The bodice of the ball-gown was embedded with crystals and patterned designs, stopping at the waist. The skirt was poufy and ruffled, crafted from delicate and rare lace materials, the same light shade of pink as the bodice.

"Ok, the next one!" Octavia demanded excitedly, pushing the smaller parcel toward a speechless Hermione.

Hermione blinked as she eyed the spectacular gown once more before placing it delicately back into the box and opening the other gift.

White sandal shoes lay in the box, detailed with crystal designs and patterns. The ankle of the shoe featured a thick white ribbon, tied at the back. They were divine and simply gorgeous. Although Hermione was unsure as to whether she would be able to walk in them, let alone _dance_ in the heels.

"They're amazing, O." Hermione smiled at her smug friend. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Octavia grinned, as Hermione picked up a small black box.

"Oh … Wow." Hermione breathed, gaping stupidly at the extravagant necklace inside of the black velvet box.

Octavia rolled her eyes and glanced at Blaise. Hermione turned her gaze to Blaise, her brown eyes wide with awe as he remained stoic as ever.

"It will compliment your dress at the Banquet," Blaise drawled indifferently.

Octavia peeked into the box, getting a better look at the necklace before raising her brows. He would have had to of spent _a lot_ of galleons on that necklace. It was an expensive piece to be sure, encrusted with big sparkling diamonds, the central jewels all the same shade of pink as the ball gown. Octavia smirked, realising that Blaise had evidently sneaked a peak at the dress O purchased for Ninny and chose his own gift around it.

"I reduced the size of the necklace," Blaise said. "It will allow you to wear it as a choker with your gown, therefore will not clash with the detailing of the dress. After the Banquet, I will return it to its original length."

Hermione nodded, her cheeks crimson, as she placed the expensive piece of jewellery back into its velvet box. The Zabini gifts were by far the most lavish of those she had received that day.

Being a friend to such wealthy people certainly had its advantages; of course, Hermione cared naught about such things. She was far too humble.

"Right," Octavia smiled, standing from her seat. "I'm going to find Luna. I'll see you later, Birthday-Girl."

Hermione nodded in a gesture of farewell, Octavia departing without a word to her brother. Leaving Hermione alone in the compartment with Blaise, their patrols not due for another two hours. Great. Not like it wasn't awkward enough.

Shifting around in her seat, Hermione rested her head against the window and feigned the beginnings of a nap, hoping that it would ease the awkward atmosphere. It did; for twenty minutes into her pretence, Hermione quickly found herself succumbing to what she feigned, and sound asleep as Blaise watched her intently.

* * *

 _The chaos out in the suburban street echoed throughout the house, the very building shaking and trembling in its foundations. Screams and cries tore through the brick walls of the modest home, Hermione huddled up on her bed as her Auntie and Uncle panicked and fretted around the bedroom._

 _"Where is she?" Auntie Linda screeched, dropping to her knees and peeking under the second bed in the room._

 _Uncle Robert tore open the doors to the closet in the girly bedroom, ransacking the small space as he searched for the young girl._

 _"Hermione," Linda hushed as the child began to sob. "Hermione, where is she? Did you see her?"_

 _"Kitchen," Hermione whispered, pointing to the bedroom door._

 _Hermione whimpered as a loud bang resounded through the house, coming from the chaos outside in the street. Screams of agony accompanied the violent noises, Hermione trembling as she placed her hands over her ears._

 _"I'll check," Uncle Robert assured his frantic wife before running to the door._

 _"Robbie!" Linda yelled over the screams and bangs in the streets. "Take the gun with you."_

 _Uncle Robert nodded, picking up his hunting rifle from the empty bed across from Hermione's, and departing the room swiftly._

 _"Come on," Aunt Linda hushed, picking up the young Hermione and holding her against her. "We're going to play hide-and-seek, ok? It'll be fun, alright?"_

 _"Co-re-li," Hermione snivelled, burying her youthful face into her Aunt's chest. "Co-re-li will play."_

 _"Yes, yes." Linda assured, cradling the girl in her embrace as she snuck out of the bedroom quietly. "Uncle Robert will get Coryli and we can all play together, ok?"_

 _Hermione whimpered as the house shook in its foundations once again, her Aunt's rapid heartbeat pounding against her face nuzzled into her bosom. At only two years old, Hermione could sense the unease and fear of her mother's sister, only serving to increase her terror._

 _But Auntie Linda promised that Coryli would play the game with them. Adults tell the truth, Hermione knew. There was nothing to worry about._

 _"Shh," Aunt Linda hushed, clutching her against her bosom. "Hermione, you have to be quiet, ok? Can you do that for me?"_

 _Hermione stifled a fearful sob, wrapping her arms around her Aunt's neck as she carried her through the second floor of the home. Crashing sounds and frequent bangs echoed around them, the house occasionally vibrating as screams tore through the air. Hermione knew that the screams were coming from outside in the street, but the front door blasted open causing her to tighten her hold on her Aunt Linda._

 _Linda raced through the hallway before creeping into the master bedroom and closing the door behind her silently._

 _"Hermione, look at me," Linda whispered, placing her niece down on the carpet. "Look at me. We're just playing a game, ok? It's a fun game, and if you win, I'll take you to Disneyland, ok?"_

 _Hermione nodded, tears streaming down her face as a terrible scream ripped through the house, coming from inside. From downstairs._

 _A man's scream._

 _And only one single gunshot._

* * *

Octavia beamed brilliantly as she spotted her parents in the crowd, taking off at a run as she sped toward them. Her father smiled at the sight of his happy and excited daughter, her mother spreading her arms as Octavia ran right into her.

"Octavia," Mediana cooed, embracing her daughter tightly. "It is so lovely to see you. I have missed you dearly."

Octavia murmured similar words back to her mother, her face buried in the crook of her neck as she held on for dear life. It was at times like these that Octavia never wished to leave her parents again, not even for a moment. All doubts of her parents' love for her washed away with the embrace of her mother, her father waiting patiently for his own greeting.

"Where is your luggage, dear?" Mediana asked as Octavia squirmed out of her hold.

"Blaise is bringing it," Octavia answered, throwing herself into her father's arms.

Leonardo chuckled, returning the gesture as he held his daughter against him before pulling away. It was unseemly for a Lord to display such gestures of affection in public, but he made an exception for his only daughter.

Octavia smiled up at her now-composed father before following his gaze to her approaching brother. Her eyes narrowed, however, as she spotted his companion, Draco Malfoy, both making their way over to the Zabinis.

"Octavia, dear." An elegant drawl sounded out, Octavia turning to face the new arrivals.

Narcissa Malfoy inclined her head at the girl, Octavia curtseying in response before performing the exact same greeting with Lucius Malfoy.

"Lord and Lady Malfoy," Octavia greeted formally, straightening herself as Blaise and Draco arrived.

Octavia didn't watch as Draco greeted his parents, instead opting to watch Blaise kiss Mediana on the cheek before shaking his father's hand firmly.

Leonardo and Draco shook hands as Blaise and Lucius followed suit, Octavia scowling at the back of Draco's head, going noticed by her mother and Narcissa. The two women shared a knowing look before composing themselves and gracefully herding their children into order.

"Come now," Mediana drawled, steering her children through the crowd, the Malfoys leading the way. "There is much to do, and so little time."

Octavia resisted a groan, sensing the confirmation to her silent concerns in her mother's words. Sometimes, the Zabinis and Malfoys would dine together on the first night of the Christmas Break, but not always. So Octavia had allowed herself a little hope that they would be spending the first night of the holidays without the Malfoys, but it seemed that she was wrong, and her hope quickly thwarted.

Great.

Even away from the confines of the Hogwarts castle, Draco would be a constant companion at all times. Was it too much to ask for a little time with her family, without the blasted demon?

Apparently so.

* * *

Standing in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor, Octavia repressed a shudder as Draco placed his hand on her back, evidently preparing to escort her through the floo-network. She had hoped that her escort would be her brother, but as Blaise stood with her parents in front of them, Draco had the opportunity to claim the position. An opportunity that he took full advantage of, it seemed.

His hand was practically burning a hole in her back, despite the layers of her tight-fitted creamy-pink dress and matching robe. Her feet wore the muggle designer heels she had received from an anonymous sender back at Hogwarts. The light pink shade matched her robe and dress perfectly, the red underside of the shoes adding a little something to her outfit. Little did Octavia know, Draco had purchased those very shoes for her.

Nor did she know the satisfaction it gave him to see her adorning his gifts. As though he had marked and claimed her in a way.

Two by two, they stepped into the extravagant fireplace, speaking their desired destination clearly before being engulfed in a swarm of green flames. Once the parents had departed, Blaise stepped into the spotless fireplace, his eyes darting between a pouting Octavia and a stoic Draco.

"Horizon Lane," Blaise stated clearly, the flames swallowing him whole.

As the flames dissipated, Draco guided as sulky Octavia over to the now-vacant fireplace, retreiving a handful of floo-powder from the solid gold pot. Once they were in the fireplace, Draco raised his hand, clutching the floo-powder, but waited a moment.

Octavia was grateful that he delayed their departure for a few seconds, knowing that she required the time to prepare herself. For once they arrived on Horizon Lane via the public floo-network entrance, they would be stepping into a herd of paparazzi without a doubt.

Plastering on the sweetest smile she could manage, Draco tossed the powder and declared their destination. Less than a second after, Octavia found herself stepping out of another fireplace, bright flashes assaulting her adjusting eyes as Draco guided her through the crowd.

"Lady Zabini!"

"Care to comment on the rumours of –"

"What are your plans for the winter?"

"Are the claims of your engagement to Lord Malfoy true?"

"What designers are you wearing?"

Octavia smiled politely at the leeches that were the paparazzi, allowing Draco to guide her through the parting crowd, the rest of their party a metre or so ahead.

A squeal escaped her lips as she tripped over a loose stone in the ground, her heart pounding as the cobble-stone floor neared her at a frightening speed. Draco swiftly bent and caught her around the waist before she could collide with the floor, the paparazzi not caring about her wellbeing in the slightest. Incessant flashes assaulted her vision as Draco righted and steadied her, Octavia gripping onto his arm as she relaxed.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, probably for the cameras.

"Fine, thank you." Octavia nodded, glancing down at her now-broken shoe.

The strap of her right shoe had snapped during her fall, the heel also broken. Her hazel eyes swarmed with sadness and bitter disappointment as she eyed the damage; a difficult task when cameras continued to flash in your face.

Draco stepped in front of her, kneeling down at her feet as he gently clasped his hand around her calf and placed her broken-shoe-clad foot on his thigh. Octavia feigned a sweet smile for the cameras as Draco used wandless magic to repair the damage before placing her foot back on the ground slowly, his fingertips grazing against the bare skin of her calf.

"Thank you," Octavia smiled, her eyes contradicting her words as he rose and inclined his head formally.

His hand found its way back to the small of her back, resuming his escorting of her through the crowd, toward the restaurant and their patiently waiting companions.

Octavia could have sworn that Lucius and Narcissa shared a pointed look before returning their stares to the approaching duo.

* * *

The white solid table was surrounded by the seated purebloods, all sitting in their appropriate positions. The patriarchs of the two families occupied the chairs at either ends of the table, their wives seated on their sides. Octavia sat on the left side of the table, in between Narcissa and her mother, Draco and Blaise directly across from her.

Their table resided in the upper balcony of the restaurant, concealed by a privacy booth, yet allowing them to look out onto the other patrons that dined at the fine establishment.

Octavia almost sighed in blissful relief as the garçons approached the table, handing the men wine-lists and menus. She was simply starving, having not had the time to eat after her arrival at home. Due to the lengthy train ride to Platform 9 ¾, Octavia had only been allowed two hours to prepare for their outing with the Malfoys. That time was entirely spent on showering and Pinky assaulting her scalp with straightening potions and painful hairstyles. Currently, Octavia's sleek locks were pulled back into a high ponytail, sitting atop her head, her face painted beautifully with cosmetics.

Despite how spectacular Octavia looked, her tummy was churning and mouth salivating as the men consulted the menus and wine-lists. Octavia resisted a scowl as her father ordered caviar for her, and Châteaubriand for himself. Blaise ordered Cheese Soufflé, and Draco – much to Octavia's envy – ordered pre-carved Lobster Thermidor. The men conversed briefly and decided together on Dom Perignon for the beverages. Gross. Octavia hated champagne.

Deciding internally to gorge herself on salty foods when she returned home, Octavia remained perfectly stoic as the garçons left with the orders. It was less than two minutes before they returned and set to filling the crystal flutes with champagne, placing platters of various types of cheeses on the table. Octavia watched as her father and Lucius began to fill their wives' side-plates with crackers and cheeses, Draco doing the same for her as he leaned across the table.

Inclining her head in a gesture of gratitude, Octavia began to pick lightly at the cheese samples, rather than devour it like she would have preferred.

"I do hope they are quick," Narcissa complained lightly. "I am rather famished."

"Agreed," Octavia sighed gracefully. "Although, I am not certain that caviar will be sufficient enough in satiating my hunger."

Octavia glanced at her father, Leonardo quirking his brow at her underhanded insolence.

"Octavia," her mother scolded lightly, Octavia pouting in response. "Mind your manners, dear."

"How have you been, Octavia?" Narcissa asked politely, dismissing the wizard-born's behaviour.

"Quite well, thank you." Octavia smiled graciously.

"As I understand, you were the victim of a cruel prank not long ago, yes?" Narcissa pressed, her need for gossip slithering in her blue eyes.

Octavia glanced briefly at Draco, the pureblood staring directly at her with cold eyes.

"Yes," Octavia nodded, returning her gaze to Lady Malfoy. "Unfortunately, that is true."

"Who would do such a thing?" Narcissa asked, already knowing the answer. "To a sweet girl like yourself, no less."

"My thoughts exactly," Octavia smiled insincerely. "Alas, it cannot be helped when your attacker is emotionally and mentally depraved. You can only pity such a beast."

Narcissa smirked at the girl's sly response, the garçons approaching the table with the ordered dishes. Octavia met Draco's hardened eyes as the dishes were placed in front of them, neither faltering. Of course, Octavia was only feeling rather rebellious due to the presence of her father, finding that it provided her with a foolish sense of courage.

Although, it seemed as if her courage was unrequired. Draco's stare, while cold, was void of its usual sinister glint. It was as though he was merely considering her; contemplating her.

"How are the discussions with the Greengrasses fairing?" Mediana asked lightly, her gaze on Narcissa as the garçons departed.

"Ah," Narcissa smiled at her closest friend. "Edward is less than pleased, it seems."

Octavia frowned, her gaze fixing on the woman as she began to listen attentively, Draco observing the curious wizard-born.

"Understandably so, I must say," Mediana replied as the men listened and waited for the women to eat so that they could follow suit.

"Why is Duke Greengrass displeased?" Octavia asked, her hand clasping her dinner-fork lightly.

"Well," Narcissa began, the men at the table evidently frustrated that the women had seemingly forgotten their meals. Except Leonardo and Draco observed Octavia intently as she learned the recent revelations. "Draco has decided on another prospective bride, and has since entered into negotiations regarding her contract. Edward feels rather inconvenienced, given the late notice of these proceedings."

"I see," Octavia nodded, losing interest entirely.

She just felt tremendous pity for the 'prospective bride', but as it wasn't her, she dismissed the topic effortlessly.

The very moment that the women began to eat, the men followed suit, Draco's icy grey eyes never straying from the wizard-born across from him. The occupants of the table remained silent throughout the main course, only entering into conversations once all had placed their napkins on their plates, indicating that they were finished.

The garçons cleared the table of the used plates, replacing them with a variety of exquisite desserts. Octavia immediately selected her favourite – Croquembouche – before Draco could do so, given that he also preferred the dish to the other options. Draco allowed her to slide the dish closer to her before deciding on a crème brûlée instead.

"Have the negotiations been dissolved, Draco?" Leonardo asked, sipping from his crystal flute of champagne.

"We are in the final stages of annulments," Draco drawled.

"When do you predict the final process to be complete?"

"No more than a fortnight," Draco answered. "Proceedings will be finalised now that I am able to attend to the matter in person."

"Very good," Leonardo nodded.

All occupants of the table glanced at an oblivious Octavia as she dabbed at her lips with a napkin, her dessert entirely devoured. And she was still hungry.

"Are you excited for the trip to the French Alps tomorrow?" Narcissa asked, her gaze on Octavia.

"Yes, My Lady." Octavia lied. "I am eager to enhance my skiing skills."

Absolute bullshit. Octavia couldn't ski if her life depended on it, no matter how many professional lessons she had received as a child. Unfortunately, Octavia just lacked the required co-ordination and reflexes for the sport.

Draco smirked as he eyed the wizard-born, recalling the plentiful occasions in which Octavia would tumble down the snowy slopes before throwing tantrums and tears. He had no doubt in his mind that the predictable girl would feign illness and stay in her bed all day.

"Although, I am feeling rather unwell at present." Octavia sighed, Draco's smirk remaining as she laid the groundwork for her scheme. "Travelling takes its toll on me, you see."

Blaise grinned widely at his sister's obvious lie, their parents obviously buying what she was selling.

"If you are still unwell tomorrow, Octavia, I would prefer that you rest." Mediana instructed. "I must insist, dear. I do not wish for you to injure yourself."

"Of course, mother," Octavia nodded solemnly. "If you believe that it is best, then I will do so."

The garçons approached the table, clearing it of the plates and used utensils as everyone conversed. Given the late hour, the three Hogwarts students – mainly Octavia – began to stifle yawns and conceal their weariness. This was one of the primary reasons that Octavia loathed dining out on the first night of the Christmas Break. The Hogwarts Express arrived into Platform 9 ¾ at thirty minutes passed five that afternoon, Octavia spending the subsequent two hours preparing herself for the outing. Now, she sat at the table, evidently shattered as the time approached 9.30pm.

Thankfully, as they all had early portkeys to catch in the morning, dinner was dismissed prematurely and the two families returned to their respective mansions. Octavia did not allow herself to feel relief at the welcome departure of Draco Malfoy, however.

For she would only be granted little more than twelve hours away from the demon. And even after the nightly annual trip to the Parkinson's château in the Alps, she would be seeing him almost daily throughout the remainder of the Christmas Break.

Just once, Octavia would like to enjoy a quiet night and day at home with no visitors to entertain, nor events to attend. A rather preposterous notion, she knew.

But a girl could dream.


	29. Chapter 29

Octavia's eyelids fluttered shut as she reclined in the bathtub, the bubbles tickling her chin lightly. Harmonious melodies sang around her, coming from the radio on the bathroom counter. She relished in the relaxing music and warmth of the water engulfing her naked body, basking in the much needed tranquillity that the ensuite provided her.

As it was only an hour after lunchtime, the rest of the party were out on the slopes, skiing and enjoying the wintery Alps. Octavia, however, faked a headache and was allowed a dismissal to the bedroom she occupied at the Parkinson château. Had it of been summer, and the sports consisting of lounging by the pool, Octavia would have participated wholeheartedly. But it was not summer, and the sport was skiing. An activity she loathed almost as much as Quidditch. Perhaps more, actually.

For at least with Quidditch, Octavia's inability to participate stemmed from her inability to perform magic- something entirely out of her control. Yet, with skiing, Octavia tried her hardest to excel in the sport, but found that she was unable. With skiing, Octavia had no real excuse to support her failure, unlike Quidditch. So skiing may just rank higher in her list of 'Things I Hate'.

Three guesses what was first on that list.

Hint: It's tall, cruel and arrogant.

What Octavia also hated were her toes that peaked out of the mountains of bubbles in the tub. Her poorly manicured toe-nails were courtesy of Pinky, her house-elf being the only other option in the beauty treatment, given the lack of spare time Octavia had since departing Hogwarts.

Due to her packed schedule, Octavia found herself counting the hours until she would return home the next morning to Zabini Manor. For she would spend that day obligation-free.

There was no doubt in her mind that her first order of business was to attend a Spa and enjoy a day of pampering. She would indulge herself in haircare, pedicures, manicures, skin treatments, the lot! It had been far too long since her last professional beauty experience, and she planned to rack up quite a bill to make up for it. Not that her father would mind, nor even notice.

Leonardo paid the superficial luxuries each time the bills arrived without a second thought. It was something that Octavia had not considered before now, for she would soon be expected to relinquish these luxuries. When she married Cedric, Octavia would no longer be able to spend money without any concern or thought. The prospect definitely saddened her, for she would consider her spa-days as a hobby, not an amenity.

Alas, Cedric and his Gringott's vault would hardly agree.

* * *

Snugly wrapped in her thick winter robes, Octavia walked down the snowy steps in the gardens of the château, the icy wind breezing over her. Pinky had plaited her tight curls to prevent them from tousling and knotting in the winter wind, and her hands were shielded from the cold with white faux-leather gloves.

The warmth that her attire provided her with allowed Octavia to wander the vast gardens before dinner, enjoying the incredibly stunning scenery of the Alps around her. Mountains clustered together, surrounding the château, all layered in a thick sheet of white snow. But Octavia noticed something that had not been there during her last visit a year ago.

Hazel eyes narrowed as Octavia continued to walk in the direction of the glittering lights ahead on the opposite mountain, her head tilted to the side. It was nearly impossible to make out what the lights were, given the distance, but Octavia tried to assess the sight regardless. Bright sparkling lights glittered and glistened against the pure white snow of the mountain ahead, the cluster of beams dancing together beautifully.

The sound of her winter boots crunching against the thick snow beneath her went unheard as she continued to venture further into the gardens. She passed the wizard-made hot springs, the steam rising from the hot pools in the snow, providing her a fleeting wave of warmth. Her leisurely pace continued as she assessed the lights in the distance, the pink sky indicating that sunset was in process.

But as the sun went down prematurely in the winter of the Alps, dinner would not be served for at least another two hours. So Octavia continued to walk, passing the stables where the horses resided in magically produced heat. There was no need for the horses during the annual winter trips to the Parkinson property, but they were undoubtedly used over the summer.

Octavia had never visited the château in the summer, but she was certain that it would be rather boring indeed. Only the horses and the hot springs would serve as entertainment, for only slushy traces of snow would remain on the mountains.

The door to the stables opened as Octavia passed, the wizard-born stopping in her tracks as Pansy appeared. Pansy exited the horse stables, her eyes red and puffy, her nose damp with snot as she snivelled. The girl met Octavia's gaze, appearing momentarily shocked at the presence of the wizard-born, before composing herself.

Octavia wasn't sure whether to greet Pansy or continue walking and pretend that she saw nothing. It wasn't until Pansy smiled slightly and approached that Octavia waved. The girls had seen each other over breakfast and lunch, but had not conversed other than their expected greetings and acknowledgments.

"Hi," Pansy greeted informally, approaching the curious wizard-born.

"Hey."

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, Pansy evidently referring to her feigned headache. "I was just … getting some fresh air."

"Lovely," Pansy smiled, the atmosphere rather uncomfortable and awkward. "Me too."

"Ok."

The girls nodded in perfect unison, neither knowing what to say or whether to disperse.

"Mind if I join you on your stroll?" Pansy asked after an awkward silence.

"If you want to," Octavia shrugged, sparing a glance back at the grand home. "Someone might see, though."

Pansy laughed as she too returned her gaze to the château.

"It's likely," Pansy smiled. "Yet, I find that I do not care."

"Oh?" Octavia pressed, resuming her walk as Pansy kept her pace. "Suddenly a rebel?"

"Hardly," Pansy smirked. "But there has come a time in my life to revaluate my decisions and … company."

"Your company?"

"I have decided that, as I will be wed to a man I do not love for the rest of my life, I may as well surround myself with others that I do."

"Are you declaring your love for me, Pansy?" Octavia grinned, nudging her arm playfully.

Pansy smiled as they walked further into the vast gardens, the atmosphere much less uncomfortable than before. It was almost as though they had partially slipped back into their prior relationship. Almost, but not quite. For Octavia had learned over the years of social exclusion to be wary of her fellow purebloods and Slytherins, as they all served their own agendas.

"Blaise isn't so bad. It could be worse," Octavia said, breaking the brief silence.

"I know," Pansy nodded. "I am fortunate to be betrothed to a gentleman like Blaise, but the issue remains."

"What issue is that?"

"That I do not love him."

"It's not something we really get to have, is it?" Octavia sighed. "Love isn't for people like us. The best we can hope for is a husband who will respect us, and someone we can be friends with."

"Friendship," Pansy repeated dryly. "I agree that friendship is desirable in a marriage, but it is a poor substitute, is it not?"

Octavia frowned, not really agreeing. How could she? The very reason she wanted Cedric's offer to be considered was due to their relationship: Their friendship and his respect of her. Yes, it had initially begun from her physical attraction to him, but that would fade over time with age. Their friendship would persevere, however.

Right? She hoped so.

"Has your contract been purchased yet?" Pansy asked.

"Not officially," Octavia sighed. "Hopefully it will be by the end of the Christmas Break."

"Why in that particular time-frame?"

"The suitor I want father to accept has a competitor. The quicker father accepts the man I want, the better."

"The man?" Pansy quirked her brow. "How cryptic."

"It's a secret," Octavia shrugged.

Pansy was in no way entitled to know of O's relationship with Cedric, despite their mending friendship. So she would not speak a word of it.

Never trust a Slytherin.

"Don't you grow weary of it all?" Pansy asked sadly. "The secrets and the lies? The offers and the rejections? Even poor Astoria had her offer revoked by the Malfoys, and at such short notice too."

Octavia laughed. "A lucky escape, if you ask me."

"While Draco is a cold man," Pansy drawled, "he is a coveted suitor. Astoria would be lucky to have him as a husband."

"His wealth and status don't make up for what he truly is." Octavia frowned.

"What is he?"

"A demon."

"That is your perception of him," Pansy nodded. "But to others, the perception is quite different."

"What do you see?"

"A refined man, with elegance and class. A powerful political figure and a provider. Fiercely loyal to his own family, and admirably ambitious."

"Elegance and class?" Octavia scoffed. "He bullies me, Pansy. He torments a girl that cannot fight back, and relishes in the pain of others."

"A matter of perception," Pansy waved her hand dismissively.

"No. That's just fact."

"To an extent," Pansy agreed. "The situation runs much deeper than your statement, however. So the facts are not whole- they are half-truths."

"I don't agree," Octavia replied coolly. "The reasons for his behaviour don't justify it."

"I did not claim that his actions are justifiable. I am merely pointing out that he has his reasons, yet you are unaware of them. Therefore, your perception is unsupported due to the lack of information."

"The reasons? He is a prejudicial bigot and a sadist; those are the reasons."

Pansy sighed, not wishing to debate the matter further. It was not her place to enlighten the oblivious girl to the true cause of Draco's warped and twisted behaviour. All would be revealed in time, without her uninvited meddling.

"Isn't it lovely?" Pansy smiled.

Octavia frowned, eyeing the girl for a moment before following her gaze. Ah. Pansy was referring to the strange cluster of lights in the distance, glistening from an adjacent mountain.

"What is it?" Octavia asked, watching as the lights sparkled brilliantly.

"A village," Pansy answered softly. "Muggle, as it happens."

"A muggle village?" Octavia asked, her eyes widening as she gazed in awe at the lights.

"Yes." Pansy nodded.

"I wonder what it's like there," Octavia whispered. "Do you think that they ski?"

"I believe so."

Octavia smiled as she gazed at the beautiful scene, her imagination running wild with the possibilities of what the village held. Were the muggles on vacation, or did they live there? Were they free? Were they free from the restraints of their society? Yes.

But she wished that they weren't. Octavia wished that they were controlled and trapped, just like her. For if no one was free, it would not be such a desirable prospect to her.

* * *

Octavia gracefully seated herself at the grand table as a footman pushed the chair to meet her, the men waiting for all women to be seated before following suit. She allowed a small smug smirk to grace her painted lips as the Greengrass sisters eyed her ivory lace dress enviously. Octavia had worn the rare and pricy dress at dinner for that very purpose; to rile up the Greengrass girls.

The women sat at the left side of the table, the men directly across from them. Husbands faced their wives, and fiancés faced their betrotheds. Except Octavia, of course, for she was the only non-betrothed and unwed occupant at the table. So she faced an empty chair as she sat between Pansy and Astoria.

Even though Draco's annulment with Astoria's contract was in process, the proceedings had yet to be finalised. Therefore, he sat across from the blonde beauty, not sparing the bitter girl a glance. Theodore faced Daphne, neither bothering to make eye-contact, and Pansy faced Blaise, the latter inclining his head formally as a gesture of greeting. Pansy did not reciprocate the gesture, and instead, clasped her hand around her wine-glass and began to sip the dry beverage as she stared at the candles on the table.

While Octavia and Pansy had conversed earlier that evening in the gardens, Octavia still felt a little uncomfortable seated between her and Astoria. For she did not know whether Pansy would entertain conversations with her during dinner, and she knew for certain that Astoria wouldn't. The only other choices, however, were Blaise and Draco, seated on the opposite end of the grand dining table. It would be unseemly to enter into discussions with anyone else, as it was rude to talk over others at the table.

The occupants of the table remained silent as the footmen began to place divine dishes in front of each person. Once everyone had their meal in front of them, the women began to eat, thereby allowing the men to follow suit.

"Is that the dress from Sierra Sorcery's fall line?" Pansy asked.

Octavia raised her brows at the witch, momentarily shocked by her direct question, as she usually just ignored Octavia during the formal dinners.

"Um … Yes, it is." Octavia nodded, glancing down at her lace dress.

"I have been trying for months to purchase one," Pansy sighed. "The waiting list is dreadfully long."

"It was a gift," Octavia smiled, Draco watching her from across the table.

"Oh? From who?" Pansy asked.

"I don't know, actually."

"I see," Pansy pursed her lips, evidently envious.

"It's a rather extravagant gift to receive anonymously," Astoria drawled before taking a small bite of her truffles.

"It is," Octavia nodded, swirling her wine. "I cannot complain, however. I adore the dress."

"Do you?" Astoria quirked her brow. "Don't you find it to be rather plain? Almost ordinary, as though it was purchased from Witch-Wear, or the likes."

"Strange," Octavia drawled. "I could have sworn that you placed your name on the waiting list after the fashion show."

Draco almost smirked, his grey eyes fixed on the wizard-born as she raised her nose snootily in the air. Octavia met his gaze, frowning at him as he continued to stare at her, his handsome features wearing a perfectly stoic and detached expression. Furrowing her brow, Octavia kept his gaze for a moment before turning her attention to her dinner.

Discussions of politics and fashion carried on around her as she ate, Octavia listening but not directly participating. Frequently, her eyes would flicker up to check if Draco was still staring at her before averting her eyes after realising that he was.

It wasn't exactly odd behaviour for Draco to stare at her for long periods of time, but the stares she was accustomed to were of the predatory variety. His eyes were always hard and cold, or worse, stormy and murderous. But during dinner, his eyes were softer. Not necessarily _soft_ , but softer than its usual iciness. How strange.

Regardless, Octavia remained cautious, taking a mental note to not wander the château alone without a chaperone. Just in case. In her experience, it was better to exercise caution that to not, and regret it later.

Particularly regarding Draco Malfoy.

As the dinner dishes were removed from the table by the footmen, Octavia resisted the urge to grin as dessert was served. She absolutely adored Golden Opulence Sundaes. Although she had to internally question the logic of serving ice-cream whilst vacationing in the wintery Alps of the South of France. Even if the château sat at a comfortably warm temperature.

"I see that you have recovered from your brief spell of poor health," Draco drawled, speaking to Octavia.

Octavia blinked, her wide eyes returning to his gaze, her mouth open and the spoonful of dessert hovering an inch from her parted lips. Snapping her mouth shut, Octavia pursed her lips as she stuck the spoon back into her ice-cream, her vexed eyes remaining in his stare. Evidently displeased at being interrupted in eating one of her favourite desserts.

"Yes." Octavia clipped. "A little rest does wonders."

"Apparently so," Draco drawled, reclining in his chair. "Let us hope that it does not return to further disrupt your trip, shall we?"

"Indeed," Octavia retorted sharply.

"Considering your recent poor health, I must say that you are looking rather well this evening," Draco drawled, gaining the attention of the nearby parents. "So well, in fact, that I would almost question the authenticity of your alleged headache."

"Are you implying that I feigned my affliction, Draco?" Octavia asked, quirking her brow as she maintained his gaze.

"No," Draco responded coolly. "I am merely paying you a compliment, for you look absolutely magnificent this evening."

Octavia's brows shot up instantly, her cheeks flushing before she cleared her throat and composed herself.

"Thank you," Octavia murmured, picking up her abandoned spoon.

Octavia resumed her initial attempt to eat, aware that all eyes were on her as she blushed profusely.

What the hell was he up to? Did she even want to know?

"Ah," Edward Greengrass nodded, swirling his tumbler of fire-whiskey. "It appears that my suspicions were correct."

"On that note," Draco drawled, meeting Edward's narrowed eyes. "I would prefer to finalise the contact termination this evening. I assume you brought all appropriate documents with you?"

"Indeed." Edward retorted cuttingly.

Octavia frowned in confusion, further baffled by the scathing glare she was subject to from Astoria Greengrass. The occupants of the table fell into a thick uncomfortable silence as they continued to eat their desserts, Narcissa glancing between Octavia and Draco frequently, a sly smirk gracing her aristocratic features.

"Shall we retire to the barroom?" Lady Parkinson suggested once everyone had finished their desserts. "I believe I am not alone in requiring a cocktail."

The ladies at the table nodded in agreement, the men rising from their seats before the women shadowed their movements. Octavia had no idea as to why there was tension between the families, but she knew one thing; she definitely needed a cocktail.

* * *

The harp in the corner of the elegant room played beautifully, its strings pulling and vibrating on its own accord. The sweet melody served as background noise to the inhabitants of the barroom, not a single one of them paying attention to the tune.

The entire Parkinson, Nott and Zabini families occupied the cocktail room, while the men of the Malfoy family and Edward Greengrass had ventured to a separate room. It was clear from the tense and brief conversation at dinner that the three men were officially annulling Draco's contracts on the Greengrass' eldest daughter. And it went without saying that it was the topic of choice amongst the purebloods in the barroom.

Executing proper expectations, Octavia wandered around the room with Pansy as they inspected the moving portraits and artwork. The two girls completed the leisurely stroll together annually, but in those previous occasions, they did not converse. This year, for reasons unknown to Octavia, was different.

"I'm sure she'll find another suitor before graduation," Octavia said as she and Pansy wandered around the room. "She's got no reason to panic."

"I would imagine the primary source of her vexation to be that she came second to another," Pansy responded quietly, not wishing to be overheard.

"It's not that _she_ came second," Octavia corrected. "The other girl is probably wealthier and better connected through her family. Draco cares about wealth and power."

Pansy hummed in response as they continued their leisurely stroll, nearing Narcissa and Mediana by a long panelled window. The two women were conversing quietly, presumably discussing the same as Pansy and Octavia. As the two girls approached the women, Mediana and Narcissa smiled in greeting before resuming their conversation, inviting the girls to join.

"Draco is … Well, he is Draco," Narcissa drawled, smiling fondly at the thought of her son. "Once he decides that he wants something, he is determined to acquire it."

"Yes, he is an ambitious man," Mediana agreed as Pansy and Octavia stood quietly by the window. "Let us hope that he is able to repair the damage with the Greengrass family."

"It will all be forgotten in time," Narcissa dismissed lightly. "New scandals and tensions will arise, and Draco's actions will no longer be an issue."

"It is a shame for dear Astoria, however." Mediana said, her tone contracting her feigned sympathy. "To have your contract become available after many years of negotiations is rather bothersome indeed."

"The girl will have ample opportunity to rectify her lack of betrothal," Narcissa countered. "It is fortunate that the contract annulment will be finalised prior to the Banquet, for I am certain that she will acquaint herself with many potential suitors at the event."

"Yes," Mediana nodded gracefully. "Very fortunate indeed."

"As it happens, however," Narcissa smiled wickedly. "I accidently overheard a private conversation between Edward and Elizabeth this morning."

Octavia almost scoffed. There not a happy chance in Azkaban that Narcissa 'accidently' heard the accused conversation. The woman had without a doubt eavesdropped on the married couple intentionally. There were no accidents when it came to what Narcissa Malfoy did. She was a walking scheme.

"What was said?" Mediana whispered, her dark eyes alight with mischief.

"They are now considering previously rejected offers," Narcissa explained. "They wish to have her contract transferred to another suitor, as opposed to publically announcing her availability."

"They are attempting to avoid a scandal," Mediana nodded, her lips twisted into a smirk. "Which offers are they considering?"

"None that are worthy, I assure you." Narcissa drawled, her blue eyes flickering to Octavia briefly.

Octavia furrowed her brows fleetingly, eyeing the graceful and devious woman intently. It took all of three seconds before Octavia came to the conclusion that a scheme was unfolding before her very eyes. A scheme that evidently involved Octavia.

"How are your offers fairing, dear?" Narcissa asked Octavia, a twinkle of wickedness in her ocean blue eyes.

"Reasonably well." Octavia nodded. "Father is considering two potential suitors, I believe."

"And the identity of the suitors?"

"I only know of one," Octavia responded. "Mr. Cedric Diggory has placed an offer, and I am certain that father will come to realise that he is the suitable option."

"I do not believe that Mr. Diggory would be considered worthy," Narcissa drawled, her lips twisted into a smirk.

"Wealthy." Octavia corrected. "He is not wealthy, but he is worthy."

"Given the conversation between Edward and Elizabeth, it would seem that they agree with you, dear."

"Pardon?" Octavia frowned. "I do not follow."

"Perhaps I misheard," Narcissa sighed gracefully. "But I am certain that they spoke of an offer extended by Mr. Diggory. They appear to be considering the potential suitor."

Octavia pursed her lips together, doubt and anger creeping up within her, shining in her hazel eyes. But could she justifiably be disgruntled by the gossip? For she was not certain that it possessed any truth to it. Even if it did, however, it was not uncommon for potential suitors to extend several offers to multiple families. Deciding that he possibly placed the offer, Octavia hoped that it was done prior to their relationship beginning.

As if sensing the incessant question in her mind, Narcissa sipped at her wine before continuing.

"Apparently, Mr. Diggory has placed several offers on Astoria's contract over the years." Narcissa stated with smooth nonchalance.

"When was his latest offer submitted?" Mediana asked, swirling her wine.

"I could have sworn that Edward said three months ago, but I cannot be certain." Narcissa answered lightly, her blue eyes fixed on Octavia.

The wizard-born clenched her jaw, her grip on the wineglass tightening as she turned her stare to the window. It couldn't possibly be true, for three months ago, Octavia was being dry-fucked by Cedric on his desk. Three months ago, she had promised him that his offer would be accepted with incessant manipulations on her part. Three months ago, their relationship took an intimate turn.

The doors to the lavish barroom opened, Lucius, Draco and Edward entering. Draco and Lucius spotted the foursome by the window, approaching instantly as a sour Edward separated and approached the Parkinson patriarch instead. Leonardo joined the two Malfoy men in approaching the women by the window, handing Lucius and Draco each a tumbler of fire-whiskey.

Octavia eyed Draco's stoic expression for a moment, noticing the triumphant glint in his icy eyes before returning her stare to the window.

"Atrocious, isn't it?" Narcissa commented, following Octavia's gaze out the window.

It took Octavia a moment to realise that Narcissa was referring to the cluster of lights in the distance, which Pansy had claimed to be a muggle village.

"Unfortunately, it cannot be avoided at times," Lucius drawled, eyeing the village in the distance with disdain. "The filth invades all beauty in the world."

"Invade?" Octavia frowned, meeting the cold eyes of the Malfoy patriarch. "The mountains are free lands."

"Ah, but they are intruding," Lucius retorted.

"On what?" Octavia frowned. "Snow?"

"They travel to where they are not welcome," Draco refuted. "They intrude on the tranquillity of the Parkinson's château and land, constructing eyesores in the previously splendid view."

"I think it's rather pretty," Octavia countered, her saddened gaze resting on the twinkling village, almost hidden by the blankets of snow and the falling snowflakes.

She had never craved the freedom that teased her in the distance more, than in that particular moment.

"Pretty?" Draco repeated icily. "It is an abomination."

"It's a village," Octavia scoffed, mocking his vehemence.

"Dear," Mediana warned sternly, Octavia turning her gaze to her mother.

"Am I not allowed an opinion, mother?" Octavia asked tersely, her brow quirked.

"You dare speak to your mother like that," Leonardo snapped harshly, Octavia instantly averting her eyes to her wineglass.

"Apologies, mother," Octavia bit through clenched teeth. "I do not know what came over me."

"Perhaps your poor health has returned," Draco said coldly.

"I disagree," Lucius drawled. "I believe the cause to merely stem from her feminine sensibilities."

"Our feminine sensibilities allow us to see the beauty in what men deem ugly." Pansy whispered, Octavia staring at her with wide eyes.

It was definitely shocking to Octavia that Pansy supported her against the men.

"Attributable to us," Leonardo responded coolly. "We operate on logic and fact, thereby allowing women to indulge themselves in the irrationality of their emotions."

"You contradict yourself, father." Octavia said dryly. "For it is the hateful emotions of men that restrict your perception. The hate of muggles is what causes Lord Malfoy and Draco to see only ugliness when viewing the village. That is being controlled by your emotions, is it not?"

"You demonstrate the silliness of a woman's mind," Draco retorted. "It is the _fact_ that muggles are inferior that creates our perceptions, not the hatred."

"That's an opinion, not a fact." Octavia clipped, meeting his stormy grey eyes. "You are obviously in dire need of a dictionary, Draco."

She knew that he was furious at her blatant insolence, but in that moment, she couldn't care less. She was so entirely sick of the unjustified hatred for muggles and the prejudices against the women within their society. She was tired of being second-best to the men, and having her life controlled by them.

"You are done for the night," Leonardo growled. "Return to your room."

"Gladly," Octavia smiled falsely.

Octavia downed the remainder of her wine before slamming the empty glass on the antique piano and storming out of the ballroom, Pansy hot on her heels.

* * *

"I'm so fucking sick of it!" Octavia shrieked, slapping a crystal vase off a buffet table. "They look down on _everyone!_ Not just muggles or muggle-borns, but us too!"

Pansy nodded in agreement, sitting on the armchair as she watched Octavia storm around the room like a hurricane, destroying every pricy ornament in her path.

"Octavia, do this," Octavia mimicked in a deep voice. "Octavia, sit up straight. Octavia, don't speak out of turn. Octavia, don't have an opinion. Octavia, just sit there and look pretty. Octavia, you're wrong and the men are right even when they're not."

"Pansy, don't refer to them as 'muggles', they are 'mudbloods'," Pansy imitated her father. "Pansy, do not speak to half-bloods. Pansy, don't look at the village. Pansy, don't wear that. Pansy, don't speak without permission. Pansy, don't breathe without permission. Don't, don't, don't."

Octavia scoffed in agreement before plopping down on the sofa ungracefully, her face scrunched up in annoyance.

"I can't believe you did that, though." Pansy laughed. "It was amazing."

"Which part? Drinking my wine in an _unladylike manner_?" Octavia drawled the last two words pompously.

"Yes," Pansy grinned. "But also essentially telling them to go fuck themselves."

"Not in so many words," Octavia scoffed, dreading the trouble she would be in the next day. "Think they picked up on that?"

"The implication was heavy," Pansy laughed.

"Gosh, I'm in so much trouble." Octavia groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"Was it worth it?"

"I don't know." Octavia shrugged. "It depends on my punishment."

"Then let's ensure that it's worth it, while we still can," Pansy smirked.

"How?" Octavia frowned. "Go back down and insult their mothers?"

"Think bigger," Pansy grinned wickedly, her gaze turning pointedly to the window.

Octavia stood and approached the window, finding nothing but snow outside. But she didn't need to see the village to pick up on the suggestion.

"You're joking," Octavia laughed nervously, turning to face a mischievous Pansy.

"Are you too scared?" Pansy teased, rising from her armchair.

"Yes!" Octavia scoffed, her brows raised as though it was obvious. "You're mad!"

"Don't be a bore," Pansy sighed. "Your house-elf can apparate us there and back, and no one will know."

"Why Pinky?" Octavia narrowed her eyes. "Can't we use Bogg?"

"Bogg belongs to my father, officially." Pansy scowled. "A instrument of his to keep track of my every movement."

"Pansy, I don't know. This is pretty serious. If we get caught-"

"We won't."

"But if we did-"

"We won't!"

"Fine! But we don't know what it's like there. It could be dangerous." Octavia frowned, evidently concerned.

"I'm a witch, remember?" Pansy laughed. "What can they do? I'd blast them to pieces before anything could happen."

"Well … What about our clothes?" Octavia raised her hands, referring to their formal attire. "Muggles don't dress like this."

"We can transfigure our attire," Pansy murmured. "Please, Octavia. I want to know what it's like. Just a taste. That's all I want. Only an hour, that's all I'm asking."

"An hour?" Octavia scoffed. "We'll be caught."

"Thirty minutes?" Pansy bargained. "Even two minutes! I just want to experience it."

Octavia chewed on her bottom lip, excited and anxious at the prospect. It was tempting, that was for sure, but definitely worrisome. Being the girl she was, however, Octavia gave into the temptation, for she was weak.

"Fine," Octavia nodded, Pansy grinning widely in response. "On one condition!"

"Anything!"

"We wear _my_ clothes."

Pansy raised her brows, not seeing how that had any effect on the situation at all.

"Pinky!" Octavia called, the house-elf apparating into the bedroom with a _crack!_

"Yes, Mistress?" The house-elf bowed deeply, her nose touching the hem of her purple dress.

"Bring me the muggle clothes from my closet at home," Octavia ordered, Pansy smirking as realisation hit her.

* * *

The two girls stuck together closely, their arms linked tightly and the sides of their bodies pressed firmly together. They walked slowly up the snowy cobble-stone street, watching in awe as muggles sang drunkenly around them, a few bustling establishments echoing strange music around the picturesque village.

The muggle village resembled Hogsmeade in the winter, the charming cottages and slanted buildings draped in a thick sheet of snow. The lights twinkled and illuminated the otherwise dark street, only increasing the charm of the village. But Octavia and Pansy's enjoyment of the village was dimmed by their fear as they made their way through the streets. Their eyes were wide and darted around their surroundings as they clutched tightly onto one another, their apprehension and anxieties evident.

The two sets of over-the-knee boots that Octavia purchased secretly adorned both girls, Octavia's suede pair grey and Pansy's black. From her previous observations, Octavia had constructed their outfits to mirror those in the pictures of her stash of muggle fashion tomes and magazines. Her long black sweater-dress was shielded by her cream cardigan, sunglasses concealing her apprehensive eyes from sight. Pansy wore a grey sweater-dress with a belt tied at her waist, her brown hair cascading in waves down the side of her stunning face. Their outfits were almost identical, save for the belt, Octavia's cardigan and the colours.

"Octavia," Pansy whispered. "Are you sure they wear those at night?"

"Yeah, I think so." Octavia answered, Pansy questioning her sunglasses for the countless time. "It was night in the photographs in the magazine."

Perhaps she was wrong, though? Perhaps the strange accessories were only to be worn in the day time? But in the picture of her muggle magazine, the model wore sunglasses at night.

All uncertainties Octavia had felt about the attire were washed away in flash as they passed a group of rowdy men, all of them hooting and whistling in approval at the two girls.

"They are quite boisterous," Pansy whispered as they continued to walk through the streets.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, her eyes darting around her as she nervously observed the rowdy muggles in the streets. "They're happy though."

"I believe you mean 'drunk'." Pansy corrected as Octavia snickered.

Pansy glanced at the girl beside her before returning her lively gaze to the passing muggles.

"Do you want to go back?" Pansy asked quietly.

"Yes," Octavia nodded. "But I kind of want to stay as well."

"Me too," Pansy smiled.

"We can … go into a bar?"

"Really?" Pansy lit up. "You would do that?"

"Why not? We're already here."

Pansy beamed at the girl before they quickened their pace up the street, their heels sinking into the snow beneath them.

* * *

Blaise sighed as he stood at the door, raising his hand and knocking again. He had been knocking on the bedroom door for a few minutes now, desiring to check on his sister after her disagreement in the barroom. He had watched it from across the room as he stood with Theo and Daphne, deciding against approaching the hostile group by the window. A part of him wished to defend his sister, but it was best to allow his father to berate her and decide on a punishment when they returned home.

There was only so much Blaise could do for her. Octavia allowed her rebellious streak to grow, and nurtured it. Her own behaviour would land her in trouble, as it had that night, and Blaise could do nothing to prevent it.

Now that Octavia was unknowingly engaged, it was not Blaise's place to interfere anymore. She was the responsibility of Draco and her father for the time being, and after her marriage, would be solely Draco's responsibility.

Unfortunately, the negotiations were close to being finalised, Draco now officially engaged to Octavia. Alas, she was not aware of this fact, nor would she be until Draco and Leonardo deemed fit to enlighten her. She was a precious girl, so timing and tact was essential.

Blaise only hoped that her rebelliousness would dim prior to her marriage to Draco. For Draco would not tolerate an insubordinate wife, no matter how he felt about her. And as her husband, he could discipline her however he saw fit.

"Octavia!" Blaise shouted, knocking again on the thick wooden door. "Octavia, it's me- open the door!"

No answer came, and the door did not open.

Blaise turned his attention to approaching footsteps from the staircase, Draco stepping into the balcony corridor. It wasn't unusual for Draco to wander this part of the château, as his bedroom was further down the hall, only eleven rooms down from Octavia's.

"Octavia!" Blaise shouted again, returning his attention to the door. "Let me in!"

"She is not answering?" Draco asked, joining Blaise in facing the mahogany entrance to the bedroom.

"No."

Draco waved his hand at the doorknob, a clicking noise sounding out, indicating that the door was now unlocked.

Blaise clenched his jaw before sighing in defeat. As Octavia's fiancé, Draco had the final say in regards to the girl. Something that Blaise had desperately tried to prevent for months, only to fail in his attempt.

"Octavia, I'm coming in," Blaise warned. "Ensure that you are decent!"

No response came, Blaise waiting a few moments before opening the door and stepping slowly into the empty bedroom. Draco followed, his grey eyes scanning the vacant bedroom, assessing the shards of glass and destroyed ornaments that scattered the floor. He pushed passed Blaise and strode toward the ensuite, bursting through the door to check for the wizard-born.

"She is not here," Draco frowned, remerging from the ensuite.

"Pinky!" Blaise shouted, the house-elf apparating into the bedroom and bowing deeply.

"Yes, Master Blaise?"

"Where is my sister?"

The house-elf's eyes instantly widened as she began to tug at her dress nervously. Draco's eyes hardened as he observed the creature, walking slowly to stand beside Blaise.

"Mistress … is … Mistress says to not tells anyone, Masters."

"Excuse me?" Draco sneered at the trembling creature. "I demand that you inform us of her whereabouts at once."

"Pinky is O's house-elf," Blaise sighed. "She answers only to Octavia."

"It is not your fathers?" Draco quirked his brow, eyeing Blaise incredulously.

"No," Blaise shook his head. "He trusted her with her own elf."

"Look how that has fared," Draco snarled. "Elf! Has she left the premises?"

Pinky trembled, her eyes on the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to another, pulling at her dress nervously. "Mistress has … Mistress …"

"Pinky," Blaise clipped, dropping to his knee as he addressed the nervous creature. "Did she say that you could not tell anyone?"

"Yes, Master Blaise."

"Did she specify that you were not allowed to inform us of her whereabouts?"

"Yes, Master Blaise."

"Did she specify that you were not allowed to inform us as to whether she was still on the premises or not?"

"Uh … No, Master Blaise."

"Is she still on the premises?"

"No, Master Blaise." Pinky shook her head, not betraying the direct orders from her Mistress.

Draco swore crudely, running his hands through his blonde hair as his darkened eyes glanced at the window.

"She's in the village," Draco growled, realisation hitting him. "Where else would she have gone?"

"Fuck," Blaise sighed, his head bowing as his eyes shut in disappointment. "When did she leave?"

Pinky groaned, scratching her arms to inflict pain on herself as she cried silently.

"Pinky, answer me. If Octavia did not directly order that you cannot speak of when she left, then I demand that you answer me."

"Two hours, Master Blaise."

"Did she go alone?"

The house-elf shook her head before grabbing and yanking harshly at her long ears. Draco clenched his jaw tightly, his molten grey eyes assessing the mess in the bedroom as he walked around, inspecting the damage, searching for clues.

"It is not safe for her in the muggle village," Blaise said, eyeing the conflicted elf. "You must tell us who she is with."

"Pinky cannot tells Master," Pinky whined, her nerves wracking her shaky form.

"Pansy." Draco growled, picking up a silk ribbon.

The very ribbon that Pansy had been wearing at the dinner.

"We have to bring O back." Blaise demanded. "Before father discovers her absence."

"Your father is least of her concerns," Draco growled, tossing the ribbon on the floor before storming toward the exit, Blaise following suit.

Their fiancés were in a world of trouble.


	30. Chapter 30

Pansy laughed gracefully as Octavia shuddered, the wizard-born's face scrunched up in disgust.

"What _was_ that?" Octavia shivered, slamming the shot glass onto the bar.

"Tequila," the handsome bartender laughed. "It'll warm you up, pet."

"That's revolting," Octavia frowned. "Another please."

The man behind the bar grinned before refilling her shot glass and pouring one for Pansy. He placed the bottle on the bar as a patron waved, attempting to catch his attention.

"I'll be right back," the bartender said before approaching the other customer.

"Pansy," Octavia frowned as she picked up the over-flowing shot-glass. "Do they accept galleons here?"

"Oh," Pansy blinked. "I … I don't believe they do."

"How do we pay?" Octavia asked, looking at her friend for answers.

Pansy pursed her lips as she thought, her brows creasing slightly. It was rather difficult to think, however, when you were that inebriated. Not only were the cocktails from earlier still affecting her, she had drunk the tequila and Merlin knows what else.

The bartender returned and picked up the bottle, spinning it around a few times, evidently showing off.

"Um," Octavia hummed, meeting his gaze. "We may have a slight problem."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked absentmindedly, twirling the bottle in the air before catching it.

"We have … You see, we left our home without plans of entering any establishments," Octavia hesitated, her words slurring. "We seem to have forgotten our … money."

"Ah," the bartender nodded, tossing the bottle behind his back before catching it. "That is a problem."

"We are very apologetic," Pansy added solemnly before hiccupping.

He grinned, placing the bottle on the counter as he leaned over the bar. "Sorrys don't pay the bill, do they?"

"I have a ring," Octavia said, showing him the whopper of a jewel that glistened on her slender finger. "It is worth more than this establishment, however. I could leave it here and return in the morning with the money for the bill?"

"That's a gorgeous ring," the bartender said with raised brows. "But I wouldn't take that from you."

"How else can we pay you?" Octavia frowned.

"A kiss," the bartender winked. "One for each shot."

"Oh," Octavia nodded. "That's a lot of kisses."

"You've had …" The bartender sang, mentally tallying the shots. "Probably around … seven shots between you, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Four snogs from you," he inclined to Pansy. "Four from you."

"That's eight kisses." Pansy interjected.

"The last one is a tip," the bartender grinned.

"It hardly seems fair," Pansy murmured, her words slurring as she wobbled on the seat.

"Tell you what," the bartender grinned. "I'll take one from each of you, and an extra as my tip."

"Fuck it," Octavia shrugged, downing her shot of tequila before leaning over the bar.

The bartender grinned as he pressed his lips against hers, his tongue delving into her mouth and tasting the sharp alcohol she had just consumed. His hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as he snogged her senseless, Pansy watching with raised brows.

"That's one," he grinned as their lips separated.

Octavia nodded, her eyes wide as she plopped back down on the barstool, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Why is it that she constantly cheated on Cedric with no guilt whatsoever? Oh well. She dismissed the fleeting thought.

Pansy downed her shot before leaning over the bar and locking lips with the bartender, some patrons around them hooting and cheering at the display. Octavia giggled as they separated, the bartender winking at her.

Pansy licked her lips as she reseated herself on the barstool, her cheeks crimson from the shame of her actions. But her blush increased further as she glanced around the establishment, her eyes widening and locking onto two men at the entrance.

"O," Pansy whispered, her eyes flickering between the furious expressions of Draco and Blaise. "O, look."

Octavia didn't hear her, leaning over the bar and performing her second and final kiss with the bartender. It wasn't until Pansy yelped that Octavia pulled away from the bartender and turned to her almost-friend in confusion. But Pansy was no longer on the seat.

Instead, Pansy's arm was gripped tightly by a livid Blaise, her body held firmly beside his. Slowly, Octavia turned around, meeting the murderous icy stare of Draco, his jaw clenched tightly and pure rage radiating from his pores.

"Oi!" The bartender shouted. "Let her go, mate!"

"I will not," Blaise snarled, his black eyes fixed on the faltering bartender. "My _fiancé_ has had her fun, and will now be leaving."

The bartender raised his brows, glancing between the two rich girls before shrugging in dismissal.

Octavia quietly slipped of the barstool, stumbling on her feet before righting herself. She didn't dare meet either man's gaze again, fixing her eyes on the floor instead. She winced as Draco grabbed her arm tightly, his fingers digging painfully into her skin through the material of her dress as he dragged her out of the bar. Pansy and Blaise led the way, the former tottering beside her furious fiancé into the cold and snowy street outside.

The men didn't utter a word as they yanked the girls with them through the streets, hauling them into an alleyway before apparating.

Octavia stumbled on her landing in the château gardens, dropping to her knees as her balance failed her. Her intoxicated mind became dizzy as Draco stalked toward the château, Octavia attempting to stand as he hauled her along. She continued to stumble and fall, unable to steady herself due to Draco's brisk pace, the tight grip on her arm not loosening.

A thumping ache assaulted her arm, the blood supply cutting off as Draco dragged her up the snowy pathway, Blaise hauling Pansy ahead. While Blaise cared naught about Pansy in a romantic way, she was his fiancé and her actions reflected on him. His fury stemmed from the display of disrespect and disobedience. Not from his heart. It only increased his fury that his sister was a part of the rebellious acts.

Fury that Draco appeared to be consumed with, tenfold.

Blaise stormed through the doors to the grand château, carting an intoxicated and ashamed Pansy along with him. He dragged her to the left staircase, escorting her to her bedroom, while Draco hauled a stumbling and hiccupping Octavia to the other staircase.

She groaned as she attempted to keep his brisk pace, her brows furrowed in concentration as her narrowed eyes fixed on the steps she ascended. Draco dragged her to the top of the staircase, turning onto the balcony hallway and yanking her along with him.

Arriving at her bedroom, Draco barged through the doors and heaved a drunken Octavia inside. He slammed the door behind them as she tripped and fell to the ground with a grunt, his mercurial grey eyes burning a hole in her back. Octavia scowled as she pushed herself to her feet, steadying her swaying body before turning around and facing an enraged Draco.

"Ow." Octavia clipped sarcastically.

Draco's hands clenched into fists at his sides, pulling on all his inner strength and control in order to resist the powerful urge to backhand her. His jaw clenched tightly as he stepped toward her slowly, the wizard-born frowning as she stumbled back slightly.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Draco seethed, continuing to take determined steps toward the faltering girl.

"Yes," Octavia retorted, feigning confidence. But he saw the growing terror in her eyes.

Draco cupped her chin harshly, his fingers digging into her porcelain skin as he slammed her against the desk, his furious eyes penetrating her soul. A whimper escaped her swollen kissed lips at the pain of the collision, her eyes locked with his as his body pressed against hers.

"I hope so," Draco seethed, his fingernails marking her skin as she winced. "For it will not occur again, am I understood?"

"You're not the boss of me!" Octavia snapped, her rage and injustice washing over her, battling the fear vehemently.

"You stupid brat," Draco growled, his grip tightening impossibly. His fingers pressed harshly against her cheeks, scrunching up her face in the process and causing her lips to pout. "There will come a time when you will kneel at my feet, Octavia. It is then that I will teach you your place."

"You have no power over me," Octavia mumbled with difficulty, given the fish lips she was now sporting. Her nails clawed at his hand, attempting to pry the fingers from her jaw. "You can't tell me what to do, Draco!"

"Not yet," Draco snarled. "But soon, _my beloved_."

Draco released his grasp on her chin, not stepping away from the scowling mudblood as she rubbed her assaulted jaw.

"You're bonkers," Octavia hissed.

"Do you still not see it?" Draco mocked in a harsh voice. "Are you really that stupid, little squib?"

Draco eyed her in disdain, his upper lip curling with disgust as he stepped away from the wizard-born, his hand just begging to backhand her. Inhaling deeply, Draco clenched his jaw before turning and storming out of the room.

Octavia snarled at the back of his head, continuing to glower scathingly at the door as it slammed shut behind him. She knew all too well what he was implying, but knew that there was no truth to it. Draco would never place an offer on her contract, and was merely attempting to rile her up and cause her panic.

Octavia saw right through the prat.

* * *

Anxiously shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Octavia wrung her hands together behind her back as she stared at the floor in shame. Her father sat at the grand desk in his study, coolly observing his daughter as they remained in silence. She had been called to the study little over three minutes ago, but her father had yet to speak, or even issue a greeting.

Leonardo rested his elbows on the arms of his leather chair, his hands pressed together. The silence was near deafening, the darkness of her father's black eyes piercing a hole in her face. Still not meeting his gaze, Octavia gazed at the floor, chewing her bottom lip incessantly as she waited for her father to speak and berate her.

When they had departed the Parkinson château via portkey and arrived home, her father didn't even look at her once, his tense silence indicating the extremity of his disappointment with her. He had gone about his business that morning, leaving and returning to the Manor several times before he settled in for the remainder of the day. It was then, after lunch time, that Leonardo summoned Octavia to his study.

Her anxious hazel eyes met her father's dark stare as he slowly rose from his chair and stepped around the desk. She awaited her punishment with uneasy patience, praying to Merlin that he wasn't aware of her little adventure the night prior with Pansy. It would only serve to morph his disappointment to anger, and her punishment would be much more severe. But more severe than what? For he had yet to speak and berate her. He had yet to discipline her, and it only increased her nerves.

Watching apprehensively, Octavia's eyes stayed on her father's as he approached her slowly, walking right by her and toward the door. Sighing quietly, Octavia turned and followed him out of the grand room, walking timidly behind him as he winded and weaved his way through the maze of corridors in the Zabini Manor.

Curls curtained her face as she kept her head bowed, her hands clasped as she followed her silent father down the central staircase and through the main foyer. Her heart plummeted to her gut and dread consumed her as he pushed through the lavishly decorated doors of the ballroom, revealing the woman that Octavia hated most in this world.

Madame Gracieux.

The uptight French woman stood in the centre of the ballroom, a few instruments surrounding her, ranging from a hard wooden chair to a solid cane. Octavia hated that fucking cane. Stacks of heavy tomes were piled atop a small table, Octavia's spine and neck aching with the memory of her previous sessions with the horrendous woman.

Leonardo turned and strolled passed a pouting Octavia, not sparing a glance at his daughter as he approached the doors.

"Father," Octavia whined, turning to face her departing father. She was pleading with him in her tone alone.

Leonardo stopped, his back to Octavia as his fingers clasped around the solid gold door handle.

"Father, please." Octavia whispered as Leonardo remained still at the door.

She heard him sigh quietly before opening the door and exiting the ballroom, ignoring her pleas and leaving her with Satan.

"Lady Zabini," Madame Gracieux greeted in a thick French accent. "I am most displeased to learn of your recent behaviours. We will be rectifying that today."

Turning to face the evil woman, Octavia bowed her head in shame, not daring to meet her gaze lest she turn to stone. For the woman was undoubtedly a she-devil.

"Come," Madame Gracieux ordered, stepping to the side and extending her hand to the levitating drape of ancient family crests.

Pursing her lips together, Octavia groaned mentally as she approached the material, her weary hazel eyes flickering between the mass of family crests.

"Begin," Madame Gracieux ordered in a thick accent, picking up the cane as Octavia prepared herself.

If she got a single thing wrong, the cane would meet harshly with her hands, Madame Gracieux not known for her mercy. Octavia held her hands out in front of her, palms facing up as the instructor stood at her side, cane at the ready.

Starting at the top of the drape, Octavia slipped into a monotonous trance.

"The Malfoy Bloodline," Octavia droned. "Our records indicate that the first Malfoy ancestor was born in Marseille in 674 BC. Alicio Malfoy was the first wizard on record. Our records claim that he was born from angels and Gods before Merlin himself."

Octavia's mind had gone into a blank state as she robotically reiterated the stored information in her brain, repeating words drummed (or caned) into her throughout her childhood. Of all the possible punishments that her father could issue her, Octavia knew that this was the worst possible option. For she would now spend the entire day relearning how to be a lady and a pureblood woman of grace. Madame Gracieux would ensure, with her cane, that Octavia did not leave the ballroom until she was the refined and graceful lady that she was expected to be.

* * *

Leonardo led the men through the corridors of the Manor, conversing lightly with Lucius as Blaise and Draco followed. Pushing through the doors of his study, Leonardo dismissed Poppy after the elf placed tumblers of fire-whiskey on the coffee table. Leonardo and Lucius seated themselves on the plush leather armchairs that surrounded the coffee table, the documents regarding Octavia's contract sitting on the mahogany table beside the open bottle of matured whiskey.

Draco removed a large white envelope from his robes and placed it atop the table before removing his robes and draping them over the back of the armchair. He and Blaise took their seats after retrieving a tumbler of fire-whiskey each.

"The annulment has been settled, I presume?" Leonardo drawled, picking up his own crystal glass of amber liquid.

"All arrangements have been terminated," Lucius inclined his head. "We are able to finalise the contracts today."

"Octavia is required to sign the document, also." Draco commented, glancing around briefly as though he would spot her presence in the room.

"Octavia will join us shortly," Leonardo informed. "At present, she is indisposed. I found it fitting to reintroduce her to Madame Gracieux, given her dismal behaviour last night."

"Very good," Lucius commended, swirling his tumbler leisurely. "The child appears to require revision of etiquette."

"I must concur," Leonardo drawled. "Unfortunately, her rebellious behaviours are becoming increasingly frequent and concerning."

"Perhaps it is best that we do not inform Octavia of the engagement so soon," Lucius pondered. "It may prove to only worsen her behaviour, given her negative sentiments toward Draco."

"It will not be tolerated once we are wed," Draco stated sharply. "Octavia may act as she pleases for the time being. However, when we marry, her impropriety will be dealt with accordingly."

"I suspect that her behaviour will worsen once she learns of the engagement," Leonardo advised. "For she harbours hope of another potential suitor's acceptance."

"Ah," Draco clipped. "I am aware of her preference regarding Cedric Diggory, and the nature of their relationship."

"Octavia appears quite fond of the man," Leonardo agreed. "She is determined to have his offer accepted, but I cannot fathom the cause."

"Their relationship has progressed to an intimate stage," Draco informed.

"Intimate?" Lucius quirked his brow, the rim of his tumbler hovering near his lips. "You do not mean to suggest-"

"Yes." Draco inclined his head.

"I have not heard of this particular rumour," Leonardo drawled, his eyes darkening at the heart-wrenching prospect of Octavia's loss of innocence.

"It is no rumour," Draco responded coolly. "It occurred."

Leonardo clenched his jaw, his grip on the tumbler tightening to the point that his knuckles grew white from the pressure, the crystal glass almost shattering in his hand.

Blaise's eyes matched his father's in darkness, both men utterly outraged at the information. The thought of their beloved Octavia no longer possessing her innocence disgusted and outraged them beyond measure. They were aware of her romantic relationship with the Professor in the shadows of the castle, but not of the inappropriate physical interactions between the two.

"You are still interested in her contract?" Leonardo asked suspiciously.

"It makes no difference," Draco replied. "I do not know of a single pureblood female of age who is still in possession of her virginity. However, when confronted with the revelation, suffice it to say I was most displeased."

"This has the potential to cause a great scandal in future," Lucius stated coldly. "While Octavia is not alone in her loss of virtue, the profile of this revelation will be tremendous."

"It will not be revealed," Draco dismissed. "I am in the process of removing the threat."

Lucius nodded, assuming that his son meant the permanent removal of Cedric Diggory.

"Ensure that you are not careless, Draco." Lucius advised.

Draco smirked at the evident assumption his father had made.

"My plans are quite the opposite of what you think, father." Draco drawled. "If I were to kill Diggory, Octavia's emotional reaction to his death would hinder my progress with her. I wish for her to loathe the man, not mourn him."

"How do you propose to achieve your desires?" Leonardo asked interestedly.

"I have already begun to do so," Draco smirked, not revealing his scheme.

And he would ensure that Diggory never revealed it either.

* * *

Tight curls framed her pretty face, the heaviness of her eyelids indicating the extent of her tedium and weariness. The welts on her hands stung and burned, Octavia attempting to conceal the pain from her expression lest she be belted again.

"Straighten that spine, girl! Are you a commoner?" Madame Gracieux snapped, stomping the cane against the marble floor. "Chin up!"

Octavia cursed the woman inwardly, but followed the commands, straightening her back and raising her chin as she moved around the ballroom. The blasted hag was currently forcing Octavia to dance around the grand ballroom over and over again, practicing the courting dance for the ninth time in a row. Octavia's feet were aching terribly within her stilettoes, absolutely certain that they were soon to start bleeding. It had happened before in one of her countless lessons with the woman, many years ago.

"Cease your silly daydreaming!" Madame Gracieux snapped. "You look like vacant fool!"

Octavia scowled at the woman as she continued to dance, the sour expression turning into a grimace as the cane collided with her hand, Octavia whimpering at the pain.

"Control your facial expressions!" Gracieux demanded. "Only exude poise and grace at all times!"

Despite the pain slicing at her hand, Octavia softened her expression and continued to dance elegantly around the room.

"When was the Muggle-born Incorporation Act introduced?" Gracieux asked as Octavia continued to perform the solo part of the courting dance.

"March 17th, 1203." Octavia answered, twirling and swaying to the dramatic music.

The lack of agony from the harpy's cane informed Octavia that her answer was correct.

"Who was the first of ancient purebloods to unite with a muggle-born and produce a half-blood?"

"Aldis Athans."

"Who is the last living heir of the Athans family?"

"Remus Lupin," Octavia answered automatically, spinning and twirling as the music increased in pace. "Currently a registered werewolf, and husband to Nymphadora Lupin."

"Her lineage?"

Octavia blew a puff of air, attempting to move a loose curl that fell over her sweaty face as she jumped in the air.

"Nymphadora Lupin, née Tonks, is the disowned daughter of Edward and Andromeda Tonks, formally Black."

Again, Octavia jumped, reaching the part of the dance where the suitor would join her and catch her mid-air. She landed on her feet, the stilettoes causing severe pain as she twirled, pretending that she was dancing with her suitor.

"Continue!" The bitch demanded as she whacked Octavia's forearm with the cane.

Swallowing back a sob, Octavia shut her eyes for a moment before composing herself.

Cry later. Cry later. Cry later.

"Nymphadora Tonks is the first cousin of Draco Malfoy, and the maternal niece of Narcissa Malfoy." Octavia sighed, her breathing quickening as her forehead glistened with sweat.

Madame Evil nodded in approval, stepping around a dancing Octavia as the cane dragged along the marble floor.

"What is the required blood percentage to be considered a half-blood?"

Octavia hissed as she jumped in the air again, her imaginary suitor supporting her weight, before landing harshly in her agonising stilettoes.

"To be considered a half-blood, one must possess 40-60% pure blood, and the rest either muggle, muggle-born or mixed."

"The percentage rate to be considered a tainted-blood?"

"Above 60%, but less than a 100%. Like you, Madame – Ow!"

Octavia groaned as a new welt, courtesy of the cane, appeared on her wrist. She willed the tears to stay away, focusing her attention on the dance.

"Blood percentage of a muggle-born?" The woman asked coolly, the cane gripped tightly in her hand.

"Any magical person born from two muggle parents," Octavia rasped, the exhaustion taking its toll on her. "Therefore, 0% blood purity."

"A mixed-blood?"

Octavia finished the dance, glancing at the stern woman before sighing in defeat and starting all over again.

"A mixed-blood is a magical person with blood purity under 40%."

Octavia answered question after question, the hours of torture causing her muscles and bones to ache dreadfully. The horrid woman appeared to be quite prepared to continue the torture until O's feet actually did bleed again, and her father had yet to arrive and end the lesson.

Octavia was beginning to think that the only way to end her personal hell was to have exhaustion take her entirely and faint to escape.

* * *

Draco handed the contract to Blaise as Leonardo refilled his tumbler of fire-whiskey. After hours of negotiations and drafts, they had finally agreed on the dowry, prerequisites, share percentages of Zabini Empires, and the date of the wedding.

 _Agreement Stipulations_

 _1)_ _Complete transfer of rights from Bride's Father to Groom_

 _2)_ _Allegiance between united families_

 _3)_ _Blood tests of the Bride to assess health_

 _4)_ _Medical tests to assess fertility of the Bride_

 _5)_ _Dowry of 500,000 galleons to be transferred from Bride's Father to Groom at the ceremony_

 _6)_ _Official announcement of engagement six months prior to ceremony_

 _7)_ _Closure of both Bride and Groom's contracts to prevent further offers from potential suitors_

 _The acceptance of this contract of unity between_ _Lady Octavia Mediana Zabini_ _and_ _Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy_ _requires ownership of bride to be transferred to the groom at the ceremony. Thenceforth, it remains the primary duty of the husband to provide for and protect the bride for the rest of her days. The sole duty of the bride is to ensure that her husband's needs and expectations are met without hesitation, not excluding the provision of an heir._

 _In the event of the birth of a female child, the bride will continue to conceive until a suitable heir is produced. The quantity of offspring will be determined by the husband prior to the ceremony, and is subject to change at any time, if desired by the husband. The bride will accept and agree to the husband's decision without vocalised qualms._

 _As the keeper of the bride, it is the husband's prerogative to conduct the bride as deemed appropriate. It is the husband's right to expect and demand from the wife, regardless of the wife's convictions. This includes, but is not restricted to, consummation; coitus; discipline; procreation; censure; regime; etcetera._

 _The agreement and contracts require the ceremony to attain binding permanency. Charms of perpetuity and fidelity will be employed at the ceremony, thereby solidifying the bond between_ _Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy_ _and_ _Lady Octavia Mediana Zabini_ _._

 _As_ _Lady Octavia Mediana Zabini_ _is the heiress to the Zabini Empire, her owed share (7.5%) of the family assets will be transferred to the ownership of_ _Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy_ _once joined in matrimony._

 _In the event of premature dissolution of this contract from the bride's party, the dowry will be forfeited. In the event of premature dissolution of this contract from the groom's party, a consolation fee must be paid, equalling to the agreed upon dowry amount of 500,000 galleons._

After scanning the contract, Blaise handed it to his father as Draco consulted quietly with Lucius. Leonardo read the documents quietly, his quill in his hand, ready to sign. Blaise was only invited to the meeting to serve as a witness of signatures, so was expected to remain silent during the negotiations. However, he certainly had a lot to say.

While the contract was standard for arranged pureblood marriages, Blaise could hardly claim to be comfortable with it. The documents were a complete transfer of Octavia, from Leonardo to Draco. Draco would then have total authority and control over Octavia from the point onwards of their ceremony.

Again, this was standard and expected, yet Blaise was displeased regardless. For it meant that Draco had legal authority to treat Octavia however he deemed appropriate. Blaise feared that their marriage would resemble that of the Notts; abusive and violent.

Lady Nott was the victim of domestic abuse from her unloving husband, and unable to flee given the binding nature of their contract. The very same contract that Leonardo was signing at that moment. The charms used at the ceremony of the marriage between the Notts, were the same charms that were to be used at Draco and Octavia's. It would deny Octavia the hope of escaping her marriage, even if she was the victim of Draco's physical assaults. He could do whatever he wished to her, and she would be trapped and helpless.

Husbands were able to take pleasure in their wives' bodies without consent of the women, committing no crime in the process, for they owned their wives. Husbands were able to beat their wives for whatever reason, and the wives had no escape. Those sorts of marriages did not happen often, but Blaise feared that Draco would treat Octavia in a such a way. But he was powerless to prevent it.

But there was a sliver of hope for Blaise: The matter of the blood-tests.

Seemingly satisfied with the contract, Leonardo scribbled his signature at several sections of the parchment scroll before handing it to Draco. Taking the parchment scroll in his grasp, Draco didn't hesitate before signing at the allocated sections.

A smirk graced his lips as he placed the signed contracts on the coffee table. It was done. All that was required now was to perform the ceremony, therefore the marital charms. That had to wait until Octavia turned eighteen, as Draco was already of age. Leonardo had always insisted that the wedding take place after his daughter graduated, adding a further two months to Draco's wait. It mattered naught, however. The six months of waiting would not make a difference.

Octavia was his.

"Congratulations," Lucius drawled, raising his tumbler as everyone followed suit. "To the unity of the Zabinis and Malfoys."

All four raised and clinked their glasses together before sipping the amber liquid, the families only six months away from legally uniting.

* * *

Her bruised and wounded hands pressed against the ajar door to the study, pushing it open as she stepped inside. Octavia didn't meet the stares that turned toward her as she entered, only meeting her father's eyes as she raised her chin.

"You requested my presence, father?" Octavia asked, noticing that her father's gaze lingered over her welt-covered hands sympathetically.

"Yes," Leonardo nodded, tearing his eyes from her injuries. "Come here."

Octavia immediately approached her father, all four men assessing the cane marks on hands and arms, observing the pale complexion of the exhausted wizard-born. She was certain that they noticed the redness and puffiness of her eyes, but she didn't care. It was obvious that she entered into a sobbing fit after her torturous day with Madame Sadist; who wouldn't?

As her lesson had only ended fifteen minutes ago, Octavia had not had the time to shower, change or have Pinky tend to her wounds. So she was certain that her appearance would be rather ghastly.

Stopping as she approached the circle of armchairs, Octavia stood beside the coffee table, Draco seated to her left and her father directly in front of her.

"Sign this," Leonardo ordered, handing her a scroll of parchment.

Octavia took the parchment and placed it on the coffee table, slowly dropping to her knees as she grimaced from the pain of her movements. She took a black quill from the ink-pot and signed on the dotted line, not bothering to unscroll the roll of parchment to assess what is was. Given her recent punishment, Octavia was determined to be the perfect lady and daughter, so she signed as her father ordered, and handed him the parchment scroll once done.

"Anything else, father?"

"You are dismissed," Leonardo drawled, watching as his daughter struggled to stand.

Draco rose from the armchair, approaching her in two swift strides. She winced as bent and snaked his arm around her waist, hoisting her up to her feet. Too exhausted and sore to resist Draco's assistance, Octavia remained silent and allowed him to escort her out of the room and through the corridors of the Manor.

Neither spoke as he guided her to her bedroom, Pinky waiting in the grand purple room with healing salves and potions. Draco steered her over to the bed, not speaking a word as he lowered her onto the plush mattress. She frowned as he dropped his knees in front of her legs that dangled over the side of the bed, his long fingers unclasping the strap of her stiletto.

A wince assaulted Octavia as he slowly slipped off her shoe, revealing her small and reddened foot, bruises already appearing on her toes. He repeated the action on her other foot, removing her shoe as she frowned down at him.

"I thought you said that _I_ would be kneeling at _your_ feet?" Octavia sassed, quirking her brow despite her draining exhaustion.

Draco's hard eyes met hers as he slowly rose to his feet, his muscular body towering over her petite frame on the bed. Octavia gazed up at him, regretting her words instantly as he stared down at her coldly.

"You will." Draco said quietly, his tone sharp and threatening. "But I never claimed that I would not kneel for you in return."

Her brows shot up as he bent down and kissed her sweaty forehead gently before straightening himself, his penetrative eyes fixed on her hazel orbs.

Octavia frowned in confusion as he turned and departed the bedroom. She continued to stare at the cream doors as Pinky began to heal her wounds, her thoughts on the odd certainties that Draco vocalised. Then, her eyes widened as she put the pieces together.


	31. Chapter 31

The Zabinis only ever used this room once a year, but it was Octavia's favourite in the entire Manor. It was a small – by their mansion's standards – and cosy room, featuring a crackling fireplace and large glittering Christmas tree. It was the family room.

Sitting cross-legged on the plush white rug by the fireplace, Octavia eyed the pile of presents in the corner of the room, tempting her from the distance. But it was not present-opening time yet. It was family time.

She cupped the steaming mug of hot coco in her hands, listening to her father's tale of how he pursued her mother, despite the clash of social standings. This was undoubtedly the best part of Christmas, excluding the presents of course. Octavia adored hearing her father's stories, taking comfort in his informal air in those family moments. On Christmas, Leonardo was her 'dad', not her father.

Since her punishment with Madame Gracieux three days ago, her father had been rather lenient with her. Octavia had expected that he would demand the extension of her punishment, by ordering her to stay within the confines of the property for the following days. But he appeared to be satisfied that she had learned her lesson and repented.

Of course, Octavia hadn't repented. She merely pretended to be what she was expected to be. She smiled and spoke only when spoken to directly. She treated the frequently visiting Malfoy family with the upmost respect, and was always graciously welcoming. For Octavia knew now. She knew what she had signed three days ago in her father's study. She knew her contract with Draco had been processed and solidified.

While Octavia wished to scream at the top of her lungs in despair, she didn't. A tantrum would not change the situation in the slightest. If anything, it would cause the return of Madame Gracieux by summons of her father.

No. Octavia would not scream and shout. She would not cry and sob, beg and plead. She had another plan. One that tore at her heart whenever she thought of it, but one that was likely to be put in motion. As a last resort, of course.

So she sat there by the roaring fireplace, relishing in the soothing ambiance of the family room, listening to the tales that her father told. She enjoyed the company of her family, ignoring the horrid ache in her heart.

"- grandfather Lorenzo immediately accepted the offer, of course." Leonardo explained, one arm draped over his wife's shoulders as they sat on the sofa. "My own father, however, was displeased about the arrangement."

"He called me a 'peasant', dear." Mediana quirked her brow, her hand resting on her husband's thigh. "He sends me scraps of cloth every Christmas."

Octavia grinned at the thought of Grandfather Domenico's reaction to the offer on her mother's contract, finding that the thought was quite humorous. Grandfather Domenico was the epitome of a snob, and had pushed for the unity of Leonardo and Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Black. The wealth of the Black family was much greater than her mother's, so the union was preferred by Grandfather Domenico. Thankfully, her father had followed his heart, courting Mediana instead. For if he hadn't, Blaise and Octavia would not be sitting there in that moment, generally existing.

In addition, Bellatrix was currently a prisoner at the dreadful hell of Azkaban. Octavia had never met the woman, and she was grateful for that small blessing. Bellatrix would never accept Octavia into the pureblood society, given her wizard-born status. The vile woman was as racist as they came, and would consider Octavia to be on par with muggles. Octavia would surely be hexed at every single pureblood gathering, if the woman had not been imprisoned. Thankfully, she was, and would be for the rest of her life.

As Octavia had heard it, Bellatrix was a cold blooded murderer and torturer. Again, it all stemmed back to the Dark Lord; a former acquaintance of her parents.

Octavia's knowledge of the frightful wizard had increased over the years, no thanks to her cryptic parents of course. Yet, she was still perplexed regarding the circumstances and the now-deceased man. Any time she enquired to her parents about the man, her mother would respond with variations of 'the past should remain so', and her father would become silent. So Octavia dismissed her simmering curiosity of the Dark Lord and his followers.

"If you insist," Leonardo smiled at Octavia, his daughter in a trance as she gazed dreamily at the presents.

"Sorry?" Octavia frowned, turning her stare to her father's warm gaze.

"You haven't taken your eyes off the presents since we entered the room," Leonardo chuckled, misunderstanding her daydreaming entirely.

Octavia beamed as she shimmied around on the rug and stood, Blaise taking the cup of coco from her.

If there was one way to distract Octavia from her curious and miserable thoughts, it was by use of one hundred presents.

* * *

Hermione laughed as her younger cousins ran around the kitchen, knocking into countless family members as they played with their lightsabers. The two twin boys pursed their lips as they made the strangest zooming noises, repeatedly declaring that they were each other's fathers.

Hermione's mother, Jane Granger, entered the kitchen with a few parcels in her hands, giving her daughter a pointed look. Hermione instantly knew that her mother was alerting her to the fact that the parcels came by owl. As the extended family did not know of Hermione's powers, Jane inclined her head, gesturing for Hermione to open the presents in the privacy of the unoccupied living room.

"Die, Darth Vader!" Her cousin shouted, whacking Hermione on the leg with a glowing red sword as she weaved through the occupants of the kitchen.

Hermione laughed as she approached her mother, relishing in the joyous atmosphere of her family Christmas celebrations.

"Two black owls just delivered these," Jane whispered, handing her daughter the four parcels.

"Thank you," Hermione smiled, taking the parcels and departing the lively kitchen in favour of the living room.

As she entered the living room, Hermione placed the gifts on the sofa, seating herself next to them as she opened the attached envelope.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _Hey Ninny-Poo!_

 _Hope you're having a good Christmas and getting lots of presents!_

 _I can't wait to see you! There's a lot that's been happening, and I really need to talk to you. In person, though. I don't know if father is intercepting my owls, so … yeah. Uh! There's so much I want to tell you right now, but I can't._

 _New Year's Eve couldn't come any sooner! I am so excited to see you, and really need your help with something. You always know what to do._

 _I have to go down for breakfast now, but just wanted to send the presents so you got them on time. I hope you have a good day and hope you miss me even more than I miss you! You probably do though. I'm great._

 _Love, O. Xoxo._

 _P.S. Stronzo asked me to send the black present with mine … The black one is from him. The white ones – the better ones – are from me. Obviously._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermione chuckled as she folded the expensive piece of parchment and placed it on the coffee table. She immediately went for the parcel wrapped in costly black paper, tearing it open delicately. Her eyes widened as she revealed the contents, her heart fluttering as it ached miserably.

Blaise had sent her – via Octavia – a first edition of _Hogwarts A History_ , signed by the renowned author herself. In addition, he had sent an equally rare and pricy collection of ancient wizarding fairy-tales and folklore.

Too captivated by the sheer thoughtfulness and appropriateness of the gifts, Hermione devoted her entire attention to the heavy tomes, Octavia's unwrapped presents forgotten.

* * *

Adorning an emerald silk gown, tight-fitted with a high thigh-split, Octavia smiled and conversed politely with the guests as they all sat around the grand dining table. The Malfoys always came to the Zabini Manor for lunch on Christmas Day, and Octavia always loathed it. But she feigned delight at their company, laughing gracefully as Narcissa retold childhood stories of Draco.

Draco sat directly across from Octavia at the table, Blaise seated beside him. The blonde pureblood constantly stared at Octavia, not an ounce of malice glistening in the chilling grey eyes. She didn't care, though. He could be as 'kind' to her as possible, and she would still despise him. Now more than ever.

Not a single occupant of the dining table was aware of her realisation regarding the documents and engagement to Draco. Therefore, not a single occupant was aware of the reason for her sweet façade.

Octavia was aware, however, of the reason for the nature of Narcissa's topic of discussion. The woman was evidently attempting to awaken Octavia's dormant nostalgic affection for Draco, by means of reiterating their close relationship when children. Particularly his protective and caring side that was reserved only for Octavia in their youth.

"-in Diagon Alley; do you remember dear?" Narcissa asked gracefully, her blue eyes on Octavia.

"My memory fails me, Lady Malfoy." Octavia smiled politely, indulging the cunning woman.

"Allow me to refresh your memory," Narcissa beamed, evidently acquiring the desired response from the wizard-born. "You and Draco were no older than four, I believe. We were making our way to Knockturn Alley, of course, and the two of you were enjoying a lovely chase through the crowd. Oh, but when you tripped and scraped your knee … Well, Draco was simply beside himself."

"Ah," Mediana smiled fondly. "It was a very lovely reaction, indeed. He was almost reduced to tears when you began to cry."

"And there you were," Narcissa sighed elegantly. "Weeping in the middle of the street as Draco held you tightly, as though he would never let you go. He would not allow anyone to touch you until you ceased sobbing."

"I wish I remembered," Octavia lied flawlessly. "It sounds very sweet."

"You two were inseparable," Mediana added, participating in Narcissa's scheme. "Draco would rarely leave your side."

"Yes," Narcissa smiled. "My dear son followed you wherever you went."

Ever the cold aristocrat, Draco remained stoic as he swirled his tumbler leisurely, his icy eyes on Octavia as she feigned modest embarrassment. He saw right through her charade.

"It is a shame that we grew apart of the years," Octavia lied politely.

"Indeed." Draco clipped, his eyes hardening.

Every single occupant at the table knew that the pair had not 'grown apart'. Draco had simply learned of her wizard-born status and projected his hatred of the anomalies onto Octavia. He tormented her with countless hexes, jinxes and physical attacks.

Octavia smirked at Draco before swiftly twisting her lips into a sweet smile, lest anyone noticed the sly gesture.

"I must say," Narcissa continued, missing Octavia's fleeting smirk. "You are appearing rather rejuvenated, dear."

"Thank you, My Lady." Octavia inclined her head. "Mother and I enjoyed a much needed spa treatment yesterday. I was in dire need of a manicure, you see."

"How splendid," Narcissa smiled.

"Yes," Octavia agreed. "Perhaps next time you may wish to accompany us?"

"Of course," Narcissa inclined her head, grateful for the invite. "I would like that very much."

They fell into a brief and formal silence as the servants removed the empty lunch dishes from the table, replacing them with porcelain plates of mouth-watering desserts.

Octavia pouted fleetingly as she noticed Draco received a Golden Phoenix Pudding, while she was given a Sant Ambroeus. Octavia had ordered the Sant Ambroeus before lunch was served, but now found that Draco's chocolate smothered dessert was more appealing.

"Excuse me," Octavia said quietly to the servant boy. "Am I able to change this to a Golden Phoenix Pudding?"

The servant instantly became nervous as he bowed his head. "I apologise, My Lady, but the chefs only made the requested amount. I can place the order, if you wish, My Lady."

"No matter," Octavia dismissed, knowing that it would be an hour at least before the dessert was ready.

The servant bowed before turning and making his way back to the wall, where he would stand silently until needed again.

Draco stood from the chair, picking up his dessert plate and swapping it with Octavia's before reseating himself. Mediana and Narcissa shared a smirk at his chivalrous actions, Octavia smiling at him sweetly in response. Yet, her hazel eyes glimmered with an unspoken 'fuck you' all the same.

Draco inclined his head, accepting her smile of gratitude and noticing the hatred in her eyes before she began to eat the rich dessert. Octavia picked up her spoon and dug into her rich dessert, courtesy of Draco. Although, the Golden Phoenix Pudding that Draco was now eating began to look rather good. She wanted both.

"So, Octavia," Narcissa began, Octavia tearing her envious stare from Draco's dessert. "Did you enjoy your Christmas presents?"

"Yes, My Lady." Octavia nodded.

"Any gift in particular?" Narcissa asked lightly.

Octavia groaned inwardly, knowing that the woman was hinting to the lack of gifts from Draco. Octavia had received a stack of parcels, containing expensive jewels, from the Malfoys, but nothing directly from Draco. It was rather strange, however, for Draco always offered her gifts from himself, and not his family. His gifts were undoubtedly in her top-ten each year, whether it be her birthday or Christmas.

"I do adore the heirloom I received from you, My Lady." Octavia gushed. "I only wish that I could wear it daily."

Lies. It was ghastly.

The attached documents to the heavy necklace indicated that it once belonged to the wife of Salazar Slytherin. The fact that the Malfoys had given it to her, only further supported the secret realisation of her engagement to Draco. For the Malfoys would never allow such a precious piece of history to leave their family.

"You are most welcome, dear." Narcissa responded, Lucius nodding in silent agreement.

If Octavia didn't know any better, she would think that Lucius was rather tired of the underhanded schemes in play at lunch. She didn't doubt that Lucius was looking forward to when the men would separate from the women, and share cigars with copious amounts of fire-whiskey in the parlour.

"Perhaps you will wear it tonight?" Mediana suggested in the form of a question.

"It would be my pleasure," Octavia smiled, hating her mother in that moment.

No matter. Octavia would simply 'forget' to pack the horrid necklace that would clash terribly with her planned attire.

The two families, as per tradition, would be joining several other pureblood families in vacationing to a hot destination for Christmas Night. This year, the selected country was Egypt. The city of Giza would be alive with vibrant markets and culture, causing Octavia to harbour a little excitement for the trip.

Unfortunately, Octavia's bones and muscles were still assaulted with the residue of her lesson with Madame Gracieux. So the thought of venturing around the city caused her body to ache terribly in dreaded anticipation.

Lucius drawled. "The portkey has been arranged to activate at 7.30pm sharp. Shall we expect your arrival at the Manor, or will you be travelling with the Parkinsons? I believe their portkey will activate at 6pm."

"I think it best to travel with you," Leonardo answered. "I believe the Parkinsons' portkey is much too early."

Octavia nodded in agreement, finding that the 6pm portkey would interrupt her scheduled nap.

"I agree," Mediana spoke, placing her fork on the plate, now finished her dessert.

The others closely followed, now only engaged with their alcoholic beverages.

"Perhaps you would like to see the gift from Draco, Octavia?" Mediana asked, smirking slightly as she exchanged a look with Narcissa.

Octavia frowned at her mother before turning her curious stare to the perfectly composed Draco.

Draco placed his tumbler on the table as he rose from the chair and gestured for Octavia to stand. Everyone followed suit, standing from their chairs and congregating before exiting the dining room. Draco led the way, Octavia by his side as they all made their way through the magnificent foyer.

Quietly, Octavia walked beside Draco to the glass doors that opened onto the grand stone patio of the Manor gardens, Draco escorting her through. As they descended the stone steps, the others remained on the patio, seating themselves on the terrace furniture. The women watched as Draco placed his hand on the small of Octavia's back and guided her through the estate, directing her toward her private gardens.

As they disappeared into the nature of the grounds, Octavia remained silent as he escorted her. Since he was taking her into the Manor grounds, she presumed that he had purchased her another unicorn or pet. Octavia adored animals and magical creatures, but she was not exactly excited at the prospect of owning another. She had too many to count at this stage.

The greenery that surrounded them, quickly became pink and lilac as they entered Octavia's private section. The trees and shrubbery that decorated the space smelled of summer and spring, despite the thin layer of snow that blanketed the grass. Although the area was charmed to transform the colour of the snow to a light pink.

Draco raised his arm and used it to move a thick dangling mass of flowers and petals from a tree, holding it to the side to allow Octavia passage. She didn't glance at him as she eyed her private gardens, passing by the silent pureblood before he followed.

Nothing out of the ordinary caught her eyes, her gardens in the same condition as when she last visited. Her body tensed slightly as Draco placed his hand on the small of her back once again, guiding her through the flower-covered pillars and passed the stone fountain.

It wasn't until he led her through the gathering of white peacocks and flamingos that her eyes widened in awe and approval. For where she was previously faced with the end of her private gardens, she was now presented with a spectacular pink lake. Her lips parted as she gaped in awe at the brilliant vision, a magnificent pink waterfall ahead. The tranquil sounds of the water streaming down magically constructed cliff sang like music to her ears. Her hazel eyes scanned the pink lily pads and flowers that floated on the beautiful lake, Draco looking only at her.

He didn't have to ask whether she liked the gift or not; her expression of awe assured that she adored it.

"Thank you." Octavia whispered, drinking in the splendour of beauty around her.

Draco removed his hand from her back, retrieving a small box from the inside pocket of his robes. Octavia turned her attention to him, her heart beating wildly in her chest as her eyes widened.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.

It was too soon.

She didn't have enough time!

A frown of confusion creased at her brow as the box grew in size, expanding by use of wandless magic.

Phew!

She was either wrong about the box containing an engagement ring, or it was a ring that would be impossibly huge.

He handed her the large box, Octavia taking it hesitantly before lifting the lid.

"Merlin," Octavia breathed, her eyes wide and sparkling with the reflection of the contents.

Within the box were a pair of crystal and diamond encrusted heels, fit for a queen. Well, if queens existed in their world … and had taste. Which they didn't, if her tome 'Muggles: Style Through the Ages' was anything to go by.

Octavia hated that Draco had provided her with such lavish and wonderful gifts. She hated that she adored every present he had ever offered her, and she hated that he knew what she would love. She wished that Cedric had given her these gifts, as opposed to the books he had sent to assist her with assignment-writing. Also, she hated that wished that. For it made her doubt that Cedric's dismal wealth would be enough for her.

"Wear them to the Banquet," Draco ordered, her shoulder a mere touch away from his muscular chest.

Octavia slowly closed the lid of the box, bowing her head in agreement and remaining silent. Maintaining her proper manners. He issued her a demand, and she conceded.

Draco's cold eyes remained fixed on the profile of her pretty face as he moved around her, stopping in front of the wizard-born.

"What are you up to?" Draco asked in a low voice, his hard eyes searching hers. "What schemes hold your attention?"

"Excuse me?" Octavia raised her brows, feigning innocence.

"You are not yourself today." Draco explained. "You have been the picture of pureblood monotony."

Octavia scoffed indelicately as she gazed up at him, a sneer gracing her face. "I am being what you all want me to be. I'm being what Madame Gracieux caned me to be."

"You were punished for your insolence," Draco stated icily. "Not your personality."

"Aren't they the same thing?" Octavia retorted bitterly.

"It seems that you are the one in need of a dictionary, Octavia." Draco clipped dryly, using her own insult against her.

Octavia pursed her lips in annoyance, averting her eyes to the buttons of his black shirt.

Draco slipped his index finger underneath her chin, tilting it upwards to force her eyes to meet his gaze. The pad of his thumb brushed over her bottom lip as he regarded her coolly.

"Continue in your charade if you wish," Draco drawled, his thumb moving across her lip slowly, from one corner to the other. "But do not be foolish to think that I am deceived by it. You are scheming; that much I know."

Octavia kept her eyes on his, not faltering in the slightest as his thumb caressed her lips softly.

"I will discover your scheme, make no mistake of it." Draco promised threateningly, trickles of fear running down her spine.

"Would I dare underestimate my fiancé?" Octavia drawled, Draco humming at the confirmation of her awareness.

"It would be silly to do so," Draco smirked, his lips meeting hers but not kissing. "Then again, you are a silly girl, Octavia."

A scowl graced her face as he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her gently before releasing her. He stepped to the side and set to escorting her through the private gardens back to the others, his hand placed on the small of her back again.

"Draco," Octavia said as he led her through the gardens. "Even though we're engaged, and I know of it, it hasn't been publically announced."

"Yes," Draco clipped. "Are you stating facts for entertainment purposes, or do you have a point?"

"I have a point." Octavia sniffed snootily.

"Enlighten me," Draco drawled.

"My point is that I won't be dancing with you in the Amare Chorum."

"Is that so?" Draco quirked his brow as he escorted her through the pink trees. "That is an odd statement to make. I am your fiancé, yet we will not be performing the courting dance together? How strange."

"I've already asked someone else to do the dance with me." Octavia clipped firmly. "It'd be rude to take that back now, and as we're not publically announced in our engagement, it won't be inappropriate."

"It will be announced at the ribbon ceremony, after the dance," Draco retorted, his tone sharpening as his anger increased.

"We'll see." Octavia smirked.

"Indeed we will, little rebel." Draco drawled, the pair now visible to the observers on the patio.

* * *

Despite the lengthy nap that Octavia had allowed herself that day, her mind and body still ached terribly, the remanets of her weariness taking its toll on her. It hardly helped her tired state that she was currently exploring the vibrant streets of Giza, Egypt in stilettos, with the rest of the vacationing pureblood families.

Whilst Pinky had healed her injuries from the torture with Madame Sadist earlier in the week, Octavia still endured the lingering pain of her overused muscles. She just hoped that the pain would fade before the Banquet the following week. Although it was hardly likely, given the constant walking she was subject to daily, and chaos of her schedule.

The only day of rest she had enjoyed was the day prior, at the Spa with her mother. Even that day, however, was finished off with last-minute errands in preparation of Christmas and final arrangements for their trip to the Middle East.

Those who were not a part of her society assumed that the days of a pureblood were leisurely and free. It was generally believed that purebloods, particularly the women, enjoyed days of nothing but sipping tea and wandering around their estates. How wrong that assumption was.

Octavia's days were crammed with constant entertaining, socialising and attending events. The events varied depending on the time of year; spanning from fashion shows in Milan, a never-ending stream of vacations, to political functions come election time. Elections that the women were only able to vote in, depending on the permission of their husbands.

It was all just grating on Octavia; chipping away at her energy stores and dissolving her emotional strength.

Pansy's arm was linked with hers as they strolled through the lively crowds in the streets, Blaise and Draco directly behind their respective fiancées. Octavia found that their mere presence was irritating her, for she knew that they were ensuring a close proximity to prevent the girls from repeating previous actions. Draco and Blaise were essentially trailing their fiancées, guaranteeing that neither of them could slip off into the crowd and indulge in muggles cultures again.

Octavia found that, due to the proximity of Draco, she could not speak to Pansy about her recently formed engagement. All Octavia wanted to do was complain to her almost-friend, and for the both of them to bask in their shared miseries. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so.

Pansy appeared to share Octavia's sentiments as she stopped in her tracks and turned over her shoulder to glower at Blaise.

"It is ill-mannered to pry on a conversation between ladies." Pansy snapped at her unwanted fiancé, Blaise's upper lip twitching in response.

He relented, however, and inclined his head. Both Draco and Blaise stopped as the women resumed their stroll, only following once there was an appropriate amount of paces between the pairs. The distance was still practically non-existent, but was enough to allow Pansy and Octavia whispered words between them.

"My father punished me for my display of insolence at the château," Pansy whispered, clearly eager to discuss the night's events.

"You didn't even do anything," Octavia frowned, her voice quiet to ensure that Draco and Blaise couldn't hear her. "Well, that he knows of anyway."

"Apparently my behaviour was inappropriate, because I departed the room with you after your dismissal." Pansy explained in a hushed tone. "He deemed it to be a show of support."

"It was," Octavia shrugged, glancing around at the market stalls.

"Yes, well." Pansy sniffed. "I do not think that my punishment was fitting."

"What'd he do?"

"Madame Gracieux." Pansy hissed.

"Me too," Octavia frowned. "When was your lesson?"

"Two days after the château," Pansy whispered. "How many times did she hit you with that blasted cane?"

"Thirteen," Octavia sighed. "You?"

"Six," Pansy pursed her lips. "I had to practice the courting dance _seventeen times!_ Can you believe that?"

"Twenty-one." Octavia snipped, her jaw clenching slightly.

"Ouch," Pansy raised her brows. "Although you do insult her at times, so I am certain that she prolonged your punishment as you seem unable to hold your tongue."

"It's hardly my fault that she's jealous," Octavia scoffed quietly. "She wishes she was a pureblood, and hates that I am."

"Quite right," Pansy nodded. "She probably thinks her blood is purer than yours, due to her magical capabilities."

"Whatever," Octavia shrugged. "Her 92% purity can kiss my 100% pureblooded ass."

Pansy snickered as they continued to weave their way through the crowds, Blaise and Draco following closely behind. Thankfully, not close enough to overhear.

"Did Draco and Blaise snitch on you?" Pansy asked in a hushed voice. "About the muggle village?"

"I doubt it," Octavia shook her head. "Father didn't say anything, so I don't think they did."

"My father doesn't know either." Pansy nodded, grateful for the discreetness.

"Draco and I are engaged," Octavia whispered, her eyes on her parents ahead.

"What?" Pansy hissed. "I knew they were discussing contracts, but I didn't -"

"You knew?" Octavia interrupted, her tone icy. "And you didn't say anything?"

"It wasn't my place, O."

"You could have warned me!" Octavia seethed. "I was completely ambushed!"

"Ambushed or not, it hardly makes a difference."

"I would have had time," Octavia countered. "I would have had time to figure a way out."

"There is no way out," Pansy sighed. "Plus, Blaise and Draco will always vacation together and socialise, so at least we'll have each other."

"So you didn't tell me for your own personal benefit?" Octavia snapped, her voice hushed. "That's why you tried to be my friend again, isn't it?"

"Yes." Pansy nodded, not ashamed in the slightest.

Even though she was livid, Octavia could hardly claim to be surprised. She had known that Pansy would harbour ulterior motives in repairing their friendship. She had even told herself to 'never trust a Slytherin'.

"Well," Octavia sniffed importantly. "I might not want to be your friend."

"Like I said," Pansy smiled, not falling for the empty threat. "We'll have each other."

"I want happiness," Octavia hissed. "Not a crappy substitute."

Pansy pursed her lips, bristled by the insult.

"And just so you know," Octavia continued in a venomous whisper. "I won't be accepting this shit. I won't be accepting that asshole."

"How do you plan to escape the inevitable?" Pansy asked quietly, clearly still upset with O.

"I don't know yet," Octavia mumbled. "But I'll figure it out."

"Good luck with that," Pansy laughed. "When you do figure it out, be sure to let me know."

"I will." Octavia snapped. "I'll get out of it, and when I do, I'll rub it in your face."

Pansy laughed elegantly, assessing her friend's childish scowl.

"How I've missed you," Pansy laughed.

Draco and Blaise neared discreetly, but Pansy noticed and cleared her throat. As they neared within ear-shot, Octavia glanced over her shoulder to glower at the stoic men before turning back around and flicking her hair.

She hoped to Merlin that her curls whacked Draco's annoyingly handsome face.


	32. Chapter 32

Octavia reclined in the lounger by the pool, yearning for the muggle sunglasses in her closet at home to protect her eyes from the radiant sun above. The sun-repellent potion that was absorbed into her milky white skin, gave her a reflective glow as she placed her forearm over her almost-blinded eyes. Whilst she was irritated by the strong sunrays assaulting her vision, Octavia was certainly enduring it in order to soak up the warmth of the weather in Giza.

The other purebloods surrounded her, some congregating by the wrought iron circular table to the left, others swimming leisurely in the pool. Pansy lay on the lounger beside Octavia, partaking in the relaxation of sunbathing, tuning out the chatter around them.

Everyone had just come from breakfast, now opting to spend their warm morning by the private pool. The racism of the majority of families had ensured that they enjoyed exclusive access to the private pool area to prevent unnecessary mingling with the vacationing muggles at the hotel. It was always done that way. They never vacationed at luxurious hotels that did not offer private sections of their accommodations. The Parkinsons were especially insistent of this demand, of course; given that they were the essence of racism.

Merlin forbid they ever had to swim in a pool with muggles.

Pansy and Octavia had not exactly discussed the topic, but O was certain that her fellow pureblood was equally as disappointed at the segregation. Octavia had harboured a flicker of hope and excitement at observing muggles during their vacations, assessing their behaviour and mannerism. Alas, it was not to be. The only times during the trip that she would have the opportunity to observe muggles, would be during the explorations outside of the confines of the hotel.

The mingling with muggles, however, would be kept to an absolute minimum, as it always was. Draco and Blaise would not leave the sides of their respective betrotheds, given Pansy and Octavia's rebellious actions in the Alps.

Speaking of the pale devil, Draco approached Octavia as she sprawled on the lounger in her bathing suit, seating himself on the empty one next to her.

"Are you trying to contract sunstroke?" Draco asked coolly, Octavia pursing her lips at the sound of his voice. "Where is your sunhat?"

The wizard-born removed the arm from her eyes to meet his gaze, her brows furrowed as the sunrays blinded her momentarily.

"Over there." Octavia inclined her head to the table that the adults sat at as they drank heavily.

Draco flicked his hand, causing the floppy sunhat to float and levitate toward them, his harsh stare never leaving her tired eyes. Once the hat neared them, Draco took it from the air and handed it to Octavia.

She huffed indelicately as she snatched the accessory from his grasp, theatrically placing and adjusting it atop her curls.

"Anything else?" Octavia asked sarcastically, the rim of the hat shielding her narrowed eyes from his gaze.

"Do not act as though I am being unreasonable, Octavia." Draco drawled tediously. "I do not wish for you to fall ill."

"Now you care about my wellbeing?" Octavia scoffed, Pansy smirking as she eavesdropped. "Didn't seem that way when you locked me in a closet with a Boggart."

Draco clenched his jaw before rising from the lounger, his eyes lingering over her bare skin before he turned and strolled away from the moody wizard-born, Octavia smirking triumphantly at his retreat.

"You surprise me, Octavia." Pansy drawled, her eyes shielded by her own sunhat. "You know what is he capable of, yet you continuously provoke him. Are you not frightened of his retaliations?"

"Yeah," Octavia frowned, lifting the rim of her floppy hat to glance at Pansy. "But he's still a prat. He can't just all of a sudden pretend that he gives a shit about me."

"I do not believe that he is pretending."

"Then you're an idiot." Octavia sniffed, dropping the rim of the hat.

"You are quite grouchy today." Pansy smirked. "Perhaps Draco may assist you in destressing?"

"Shut up."

"I doubt that he would reject the offer," Pansy teased, thoroughly enjoying Octavia's irritability.

"I'd die before I let him touch me," Octavia scowled, shoving away the memory of the Haunted House.

"That is a shame," Pansy sighed gracefully. "I hear he is quite talented."

"Yuck." Octavia frowned. "I don't want to know that."

"Isn't it best that you accept it, Octavia? He will take from your body once you are wed, so why deny yourself the pleasure?"

"Is that what you'll do?" Octavia quirked her brow. "With Blaise, even though you don't love him?"

"Blaise and I are well acquainted in that department."

"What?" Octavia hissed. "You've done it?"

"Of course," Pansy lifted the rim of her floppy sunhat, Octavia mirroring her actions. "Is that surprising to you?"

"Uh … _yeah_!" Octavia scoffed as though it was obvious. "You don't love him! You complain about marrying him, but you've done that with him?"

"It is the very reason I allowed Blaise to seduce me," Pansy quirked her brow.

"Yeah, I don't follow." Octavia frowned. "It makes no sense at all."

"Of course it does," Pansy laughed lightly. "As I am no stranger to Blaise's body, nor he to mine, our marriage will be rather pleasant, despite the absence of romantic feelings. We have learned how to please one another already, and built physical compatibility."

"You could do that when you're married though. Why before?"

"Due to our preparations," Pansy smirked at the last word, "my wedding night will not be tainted with nerves or fear. I will not be submerged in despair, or afraid of Blaise's touch. It will be familiar and, dare I say comforting?"

Octavia pursed her lips, finding that she felt insulted on Hermione's behalf at this revelation. But that was silly, of course. For Blaise's loyalty would and should lie with Pansy, his betrothed. Not Hermione. Still; Octavia felt a surge of injustice and betrayal for her muggle-born friend.

"All that says to me, is that you're giving in." Octavia said.

"There is no other option, O."

Octavia dropped the rim of her hat, ending the conversation with a snooty humph.

There was definitely another way. Octavia had two plans in motion to prevent her marriage to Draco. And Draco was completely oblivious as to how he had assisted her last-resort option.

* * *

Following the two-hour rest in the solitude of her hotel room, Octavia stood by the dining table on the patio of the private section at the hotel, feeling rejuvenated. Her washed and strawberry-scented curls fell freely down her back as she held her glass of honeywine, swirling it absentmindedly.

At present, the rest of the purebloods stood around her on the patio, debating mundane and over-discussed topics. She stood at the stone barrier, gazing out onto the private pool and gardens, her thoughts on the fiancé she despised.

It horrified her to know that he was the chosen suitor; that _Draco Malfoy_ was the man her father had sold her to. Yes, Draco had been kind – for him, at least – toward her of late, but she despised the man to her core, and that would never change. He had done the most atrocious things to her over the years, for no reason other than her inability to perform magic.

Her wizard-born status was something beyond her control. It would never change. Yet, he relentlessly punished her for a defect that she had no power over. It was the epitome of cruelty and prejudice, and she was certain that he was still that man. Even though he had been nice to her lately, she knew it was all an act. How could he change and grow as a person? He couldn't. He was evil and cold to his core.

If he even had a heart, Octavia suspected that it would be crippled and black, layered in ice. So she was not fooled by his 'gentle' displays. His treatment of her had certainly improved, but she suspected that the charade would fail once they were wed. Draco would return to the evil-incarnate demon that he was, and resume his torment of her.

Octavia shuddered to think of what married life with Draco would be like. Probably full of days where she would be trapped in the dungeons for speaking her mind. Likely to be plagued with endless issues of torture, all due to her inability to perform magic. Again, something that she could not control or change.

Octavia assured herself that she would never discover what married life with Draco would be like. She would never find out the true depths of his darkness, nor the level of cruelty she would be victim to.

"How are you?" A deep voice asked, Octavia glancing at the man beside her.

Octavia shrugged lamely in response, returning her gaze to the scenery as she sipped her wine.

"Draco hasn't taken his eyes off you," Blaise informed, placing one hand on the railing as he stood beside his miserable sister.

"That's nothing new." Octavia whispered.

"It is," Blaise countered. "He is observing you. It's like he's waiting for you to do something."

"I am," Octavia clipped. "I'm being the perfect pureblood fiancé."

"Ah," Blaise nodded. "You know, then."

"Yeah."

"Draco is aware that you know," Blaise stated the obvious, his thoughts whirling as it all connected. "You are plotting something; that's why he's watching you."

"Am I?"

"It is done, O." Blaise sighed. "Can't you just leave it be?"

"Are you serious?" Octavia scoffed, turning to face her brother. "You know the things he's done to me, and you want me to just accept it?"

"I tried to prevent this, Octavia." Blaise whispered. "I tried to have you removed from Hogwarts many times. I tried to have you taken away from him. But it's done now, and it won't change."

Octavia bit her bottom lip as she gazed at her solemn brother, now realising the cause of his behaviour at Hogwarts. The reasons as to why he constantly informed their father of her wrongdoings. She had always just thought that he was bullying her by doing so. Never would she have thought he was trying to protect her.

"Do you still want to protect me from him?" Octavia asked, glancing at Draco across the patio.

Draco stood with her father and Lucius, his cold grey eyes fixed intently on the wizard-born.

"I do," Blaise nodded. "But it can't be changed, O."

"What if you're wrong?" Octavia whispered, returning her gaze to her brother. "What if there's a way out of this?"

"There isn't."

"Cedric's coming to the Banquet," Octavia stated quietly.

"I am aware," Blaise drawled, his eyes darkening as he recalled Draco's information.

The Diggory prat had taken his sister's innocence. A fact that boiled Blaise's pure blood.

"Cedric can change it," Octavia assured, her hazel eyes sparkling with hope.

"He has no power in this situation, nor do I." Blaise clipped. "The only way out of it, is to have Draco cancel the contract and forfeit 500,000 galleons in the process."

"500,000?" Octavia frowned.

"The amount of your dowry was adjusted to suit his wealth and status." Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. "Should he annul the contract; he will forfeit the amount of your dowry."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, annoyed that her dowry was increased for Draco, but only 100,000 galleons for Cedric.

"Draco won't cancel the contract, O." Blaise advised sternly. "He is determined to have you as his wife."

"Why?" Octavia whined in exasperation. "He fucking hates me! It doesn't make any sense. I know we're richer than the Greengrass family, but seriously! I'm a wizard-born, and that makes me worthless to him."

"Octavia," Blaise sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Draco wants you as his wife, as he loves you."

Octavia blinked stupidly at Blaise before emitting a strange combination of a scoff, snort and laugh.

"That's ridiculous."

"It is," Blaise agreed. "His behaviour contradicts the truth. Or it would do if he were stable."

"Shut up," Octavia rolled her eyes, not believing the claim in the slightest.

"I know you don't believe it, Octavia, but it is the truth."

"Right," Octavia scoffed. "Ok, so let's just say he does love me – which he doesn't, 'cause he's a nutter and incapable of love. Let's just say you're right; it doesn't change how I feel. I hate him. I want him to burn in hell forever. I want only the worst possible fate for him. I want to marry Cedric."

"Forget about Cedric," Blaise sighed. "It's not possible, so you will only torment yourself with the futile hope."

"It _is_ possible." Octavia hissed. "Cedric will come to the Banquet and be kind to me. Father will see how happy I am with Cedric, and how loving he is with me."

"So?" Blaise quirked his brow.

" _So_ ," Octavia rolled her eyes. "Father will be reminded of himself with mother. Duh!"

Blaise raised his brows, impressed with the little scheme brewing in his sister's silly mind.

"You hope to appeal to father's own experience," Blaise said, nodding slowly as he thought.

"And it will work so much better if you comment on it at the Banquet." Octavia whispered, pleading with her hopeful eyes. "If you keep talking to father about how happy I am around Cedric, and that it reminds you of the story of father courting mother-"

"Then he will consider granting you the same happiness he took for himself," Blaise nodded thoughtfully, his dark eyes alight with mischief. "Despite his own father's determination to unite him with a more appropriate bride."

"Yes," Octavia beamed proudly. "It could work."

"It could," Blaise agreed pensively. "You would have to appear incredibly happy in Cedric's company."

"I will," Octavia smirked. "You'll help?"

"Yes." Blaise nodded, glancing around to ensure that they were not overheard. "But if it fails, Octavia, you must accept Draco. I want you to be happy, but Draco has plans to interfere in your relationship with Cedric."

"What?" Octavia hissed, her hazel eyes widening. "He knows?"

"He knows," Blaise stated bitterly. "As does father, myself and Lucius."

"Fuck," Octavia cursed, glancing at her conversing father. "How much does he know?"

"Everything."

"What's everything?" Octavia asked, still watching her father converse with Draco and Lucius. She ignored Draco's intense stare.

"That you are no longer a virgin."

Octavia's eyes widened impossibly, slowly returning her gaze to the black orbs of her brother. He was certainly not pleased with her.

"Father know that?"

"Indeed."

"I … I don't know … _How_? Only Luna and Ninny … I only told them!"

"The source of the revelation is unknown," Blaise clipped sternly, his expression displaying his anger with his sister. "The question as to why would you allow such an act to occur remains."

"You're joking, right?" Octavia scoffed. "You sleep around like a common whore, and you're questioning why I slept with my boyfriend?"

"It is not the same," Blaise snarled.

"Because I'm a female?" Octavia bit. "Are you seriously using that as an excuse?"

"It is the truth." Blaise seethed. "You are a woman; therefore, you are expected to conduct yourself appropriately."

"Were you thinking that way when you fucked Pansy?" Octavia sassed, cocking her hip to the side. "Were you thinking about her status and expectations?"

"Pansy is my bride."

"And I thought I was Cedric's bride," Octavia retorted, quirking her brow. "I still can be if you help."

"I already agreed to assist you," Blaise drawled. "However, I am thoroughly disappointed in your actions."

"Good for you," Octavia raised her nose snootily. "But I'll fuck whoever I want."

They were interrupted as a waiter approached with a silver platter of hors d'oeuvres, Octavia snatching a single escargot before dropping it into Blaise's tumbler of fire whiskey.

"Oops," Octavia feigned innocence before storming off.

Blaise's upper lip curled as he eyed the floating snail in his drink, absolutely loathing the repulsive appetiser.

Of course, Octavia knew of his aversion to escargot, hence her actions.

* * *

The cluster of girls stood on the patio with the rest of the purebloods, congregating by the stone statue of some muggle person. Pansy issued a fake laugh as Astoria spoke of her horrendous trip to the Maldives after the vacation in the French Alps.

"It was disastrous!" Astoria drawled dramatically. "Not only were our reservations mistakenly cancelled, we then had to share a corridor with muggles! Can you believe that? There were mudbloods everywhere! Well, my father was quite distressed, understandably so. I even saw one mudblood walk through the foyer of the hotel _barefoot_. Outrageous! Those mudbloods are beyond comprehension, really. Utterly despicable beasts. We will never be returning, of course, lest we catch any diseases from the rodents."

Octavia performed a fake and rude yawn, retaliating against Astoria's insult toward muggles.

"I am boring you?" Astoria asked condescendingly, the grasp on her glass of moscato tightening noticeably.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask," Octavia smiled falsely. "Your story is not only boring me, Astoria, but offending me."

"Ah, of course." Astoria laughed cruelly. "I forgot that you are a mudblood-sympathiser. How silly of me."

"It's better than being a racist," Octavia shrugged, sipping her honeywine.

"Merlin, you are repulsive." Astoria snapped. "You are far too big for your broom, squib. You don't belong here, yet you act as if you are better than the rest of us. You should be with the muggles where you belong."

The nearby Slytherin Trio seemed to notice the tense atmosphere between the girls, making their way over discreetly. Before they could approach, however, Octavia squealed as Astoria tossed the entire contents of her wine-glass onto the muggle-born's pretty face.

Octavia's eyes burned with fury and indignation as she tensed, pulling on all scraps of self-control to prevent herself from whacking the girl in her stupid face. She probably would have hit her, had she not been employing a pretence. And as her father was now watching from the other end of the balcony, Octavia resisted the urge to smack the feral look off Astoria's face.

"You bitch!" Octavia shouted, moscato dripping down her face, curls plastered to her temples from the liquid.

"Filthy squib," Astoria seethed.

"What is the meaning of this?" Leonardo demanded, striding over to the chaotic interaction.

Everyone on the balcony was staring at the trio of girls as Leonardo, Draco and Blaise approached, Edward at their heels.

"She threw a drink in my face!" Octavia screeched, pointed accusingly at an innocent-looking Astoria. "And she called me a squib!"

Draco glowered scathingly at Astoria, causing the girl to falter and stare at the floor. He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket, closing the distance between him and a livid Octavia.

Octavia clenched her jaw tightly, her furious gaze remaining on Astoria as Draco gripped her chin and began to wipe away the wine from her face. She allowed him to do so, given the proximity of her father, but in truth; Octavia was far too preoccupied by her hatred of Astoria to even resist Draco's assistance.

"Did it get in your eyes?" Draco asked quietly, assessing her now-dry face.

"What?" Octavia frowned, turning her gaze to him as though only just noticing his presence.

"Did the wine get in your eyes?" Draco repeated, his furious eyes locking with hers.

But his fury was not directed at her for once.

"Uh," Octavia hesitated, Draco's thumb and index finger still gripping her chin. "Um, no. It didn't."

He inclined his head once, pulling away from her and stepping to her side as they observed Astoria, who was currently attempting to push the blame onto Octavia.

"She started it!" Astoria accused. "She did, father."

"That's a lie!" Octavia snapped, her hazel eyes glistening with rage.

"Ask Pansy!" Astoria demanded, quirking a brow at Octavia.

In perfect unison, Draco, Leonardo, Edward and Blaise all turned to a nonchalant Pansy as she stood beside Octavia, swirling her wine leisurely before taking a small sip.

Astoria stared expectantly at Pansy, evidently awaiting her friend's support in the matter. Octavia pursed her lips, unsure as to how Pansy would respond. For, in this moment, Pansy would be declaring her allegiance. Octavia highly doubted that it would be her, given the fact that Astoria and Pansy had been best friends for close to seven years.

"How did this occur?" Edward asked patiently, clearly believing his daughter over Octavia.

"Well," Pansy sighed in insincere reluctance. "Octavia asked Astoria a question in regards to the recent availability of her contract."

Astoria and Octavia frowned at the lie, unsure as to where it was headed. Octavia just hoped that it went in a direction that favoured her.

"Astoria then responded that her contract would not be available, if weren't for the – excuse my language – 'filthy whore of a squib'."

"That's a lie!" Astoria gasped, betrayal etched onto her features.

"Do not interrupt, Tori." Edward snapped, his anger increasing at the accused behaviour of his daughter.

"Octavia responded that it was not her intention to cross Astoria," Pansy continued, seemingly bored. "Astoria then thought it fitting to throw a drink in poor Octavia's face, and further insult her lack of magical abilities, claiming that Octavia does not deserve a suitor of Draco's standing."

"It's true, father," Octavia lied, her hazel eyes sparkling with innocence as Leonardo met her gaze. "I didn't do anything."

"I believe you," Leonardo assured with a smile before addressing Edward. "I trust that your daughter's behaviour will be dealt with accordingly? Shall I suggest Madame Gracieux. As you can see by Octavia's grace and proper manners, the Madame is quite effective."

Octavia wiggled her brows at the enraged Astoria, O almost jumping on the spot with glee. It was just too good. It was fantastic.

Draco quirked his brow as he assessed the smug and mocking expression of the pretty wizard-born, a smirk tugging at his pink lips. He placed his hand on the small of her back, Octavia paying him no mind as she listened to Edward scold an ashamed Astoria.

Moving closer to his fiancé, Draco bent his head down slightly, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as she stiffened.

"Liar," Draco whispered softly before straightening himself and staring down at her.

Octavia bit her lip as she gazed up at his cold expression, searching his eyes to ascertain whether he would tell on her or not. The fleeting smirk that graced his full lips assured that he would keep her secret.

Placing her hand on his chest, Octavia leaned up on her tip-toes to respond, Draco lowering his head again. Her lips connected with his ear, mimicking his actions, ensuring that it would appear that she was being sweet and welcoming to her fiancé.

"You can be as kind as you want, Draco." Octavia whispered, Draco's hand still on the small of her back, almost holding her against him. "But you've done much worse than throw a drink in my face, and I'll never forget that. I still hate you, and always will."

His hand pressed tightly against her back for a moment, his body tensing at her words before he relaxed and composed himself. She plopped back down on her heels, glowering up at the icy stare of Draco before returning her attention to Edward and Astoria.

Octavia caught Pansy's eye, the latter inclining her head as they smirked. Pansy had chosen a side.

* * *

If she had to choose one word to describe herself in that moment, Octavia would choose 'mesmerised'. Her bright hazel eyes were wide with wonder and amazement as they darted around her surroundings, her lips parted slightly. Her arm was linked with Pansy's as they wandered through the vibrant street, market stalls flanking them and muggles dancing all over the place.

The dances were strange and peculiar, yet entranced the two girls entirely. Some dancers moved slowly and elegantly, others performed backflips before spinning in circles on the dirty ground of the street. A few performers sang and clapped, merchants trying to lure in customers to their stalls.

Yes. Octavia would describe herself as 'mesmerised'.

Despite the enchanting, lively display around her, Octavia was still prevented from enjoying it fully. She really wished to stop and watch the performers in the street, and venture into the market stalls to browse the merchandise, but couldn't. Not only was Draco walking directly behind her with Blaise, her father and mother walked ahead with the Malfoys and Parkinsons.

The racist matriarch and patriarch of the Parkinson family had only agreed to accompany them on their explorations of the muggle city, due to their next destination. The Pyramids of Giza.

The group would apparate to the Pyramids shortly, once the operating hours for muggles had ended. As the Pyramids were ancient architectures of witches and wizards, magical folk visited the site regularly. But the Parkinsons were adamant on visiting the Pyramids after the muggles were gone. They wished to avoid the 'vile creatures' – as Lord Parkinson so elegantly put it – as much as possible.

"Pretty girls!" A merchant greeted as Pansy and Octavia walked by. "Come, come! Pretty things here for the pretty girls!"

Octavia allowed her eyes to roam over the merchandise of the rickety kiosk, finding that the products were not to her taste. She had never been a fan of cheap souvenirs. However, as they continued to stroll behind the rest of their group, Octavia hesitated as they reached a booth that caught her attention.

She tilted her head, stopping in her tracks as she observed the strange flat shoes that were crammed into the small space in messy piles. Pansy stopped beside her, Draco and Blaise standing directly behind their respective brides.

"No." Draco clipped in a deep voice, denying Octavia's request before she could even ask.

Unlinking her arm from Pansy's, Octavia turned around to face Draco, her best puppy-dog eyes in play.

"I just want to look." Octavia whined, Draco entirely unaffected by her manipulations.

"No." Draco repeated tersely as Octavia scowled.

Her scowl quickly gave way to a challenging expression as she turned back around.

"Father!" Octavia shouted, Leonardo stopping ahead and turning to face his daughter.

Her father spoke to Lucius quickly – presumably dismissing himself – before approaching Octavia, her big hazel eyes sparkling as she pouted.

"Can I go in there?" Octavia asked timidly, pointing to the kiosk of strange shoes.

Leonardo quirked his brow as he glanced at the stall, the merchant half-asleep in the chair behind the tiny counter.

"Whatever for?" Leonardo asked, evidently perplexed.

"The shoes," Octavia shrugged. "They look interesting."

"They have no heels," Leonardo frowned, eyeing the comfortable-looking shoes for women. "They are flat."

"Pretty please?" Octavia begged, Draco clenching his jaw as Leonardo sighed in defeat.

"If you wish," Leonardo drawled, smiling as Octavia squealed in glee.

Pansy remained on the street, the pointed look from her father indicating that she did not have permission to join Octavia in the stall. Octavia practically ran over to the kiosk, headed straight toward a particular pair that had caught her eye. Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets as he followed her, Leonardo and Blaise remaining on the street as they waited.

Octavia grinned as she reached the shoes, leaning up on her tip-toes to retrieve the pair from the decaying shelf. She grunted as she jumped and snatched them, righting herself and inspecting them intently.

Draco stood behind her, observing the shoes over her shoulder with furrowed brows.

"They are so cute," Octavia gushed as the merchant approached. "How much are they?"

"For you?" The merchant grinned. "£200."

"What's that?" Octavia whispered, turning around to face a displeased Draco.

"6 galleons and 10 sickles," Draco replied instantly, converting the currencies mentally.

"That's all?" Octavia raised her brows. "I'll take them!"

Draco clenched his jaw tightly, fishing out Egyptian Pounds from his trouser pocket and handing it to the grinning merchant.

"Do you have them in black as well?" Octavia asked, glancing around the kiosk.

"Yes, black for you too!" The merchant nodded vigorously before scurrying off and returning with a black pair. "You buy?"

"Yeah," Octavia said, gazing at Draco expectantly. "Pay him, Draco."

She could have sworn that he smiled fleetingly, but it was gone before she could be sure. Again, Draco removed notes from his trouser pocket and handed it to the greedy merchant, his gaze not leaving an excited Octavia.

"What are these called?" Octavia asked as the merchant stuffed the two pairs in a bag made of strange material. It was rather flimsy, she observed.

"Those are 'Converse'," the merchant answered, handing Octavia the bag.

Octavia raised her brows as she stared at the bag before frowning at the merchant. Draco removed the bag from the man's grasp, taking and holding it, as it would be improper for Octavia to carry it whilst in the company of men. The men would carry the bags; particularly fiancés and potential suitors.

"Is 'converse' what they are called, or that the designer?" Octavia asked, now satisfied that Draco had taken the bag of shoes.

"Converse is brand," the man informed. "Shoes are low tops."

"Low tops," Octavia repeated, nodding slightly. "Converse."

"You are finished," Draco declared.

He placed his hand on her back and steered her out of the kiosk as she repeated 'low tops' and 'converse' a few more times. Clearly testing how the words sounded and rolled off her tongue.

As she approached her father, Draco escorting her, Octavia realised that she had just purchased muggle shoes in front of Leonardo. Her eyes met her father's gaze, Leonardo thinning his lips slightly as he maintained her stare. But he said nothing, and instead re-joined Lucius a few paces ahead.

Pansy raised her brows at Octavia as they relinked arms, Draco joining Blaise as they all resumed their exploring of the muggle streets.

"Well, that was interesting," Pansy commented, Blaise and Draco listening as they maintained a close proximity. "Your father said nothing about the purchased items."

Octavia hummed, her hazel eyes on her father as he walked ahead, conversing with Lucius and Alexander Parkinson.

"Why did you purchase them?" Pansy asked. "There will hardly be sufficient occasion to wear them."

"I'll wear them at the Pyramids," Octavia shrugged.

"Oh?"

"I hate walking on sand in my heels."

"I daresay I agree," Pansy nodded. "My calves always ache terribly after trips to the Pyramids."

Of course the ladies were allowed to walk barefoot whilst visiting the Pyramids, but the sand tended to be sweltering. So the women normally adored their heels and mostly remained still for the entire duration of the excursion. Now Octavia could adorn comfortable flat shoes, and explore with the men.

She just hoped her father would not speak of the change of footwear when they arrived.

* * *

Her body was held firmly against Draco's as they landed on the sand, the horrid sensation of apparating still consuming Octavia. Her brow furrowed as the nausea dissipated, Draco's arm still wrapped around her waist and holding her against him until her dizziness vanished completely. Once satisfied, Draco slowly removed his arm from around her, his fingertips grazing over her back lightly.

She scowled as she shimmied away from him, almost tumbling over as the heels of her stilettoes sank into the sand. Draco's hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she could fall, his cold eyes regarding her as she righted herself.

"Shoes, please." Octavia sniffed snootily, extending her hand and not meeting his gaze.

Draco handed her the plastic bag of newly-acquired muggle shoes, his jaw clenching as she snatched it from him and fished out the black pair of Converse low tops.

"Pansy!" Octavia sang, her friend landing with Blaise a few feet away. "Do you want to wear the white pair?"

Pansy glanced at her father for permission, Alexander shaking his head marginally to deny her silent request.

"No, thank you." Pansy responded, evidently displeased.

Octavia shrugged before handing the bag back to Draco, not watching as he shrunk the size and slipped it into his pocket. She placed her hand on his arm and used his solid body for balance, kicking off her heels and slipping into the flat pair.

Draco removed the stilettoes from her once she had finished, shrinking them and stuffing them into his trouser pocket to join the other pair. He smirked as he observed that the wizard-born had also shrunk in size.

Octavia flicked her curls over her shoulder, now successfully in the flat shoes without a word from her displeased father. She breathed a sigh of relief before glancing up at Draco, her brows raising as she realised how tall he was. Or maybe, how short she was?

No. Draco was definitely tall. For Octavia's height was 5ft 6". Not necessarily tall, but hardly short either. However, she felt miniscule next to the smirking pureblood, now only coming up to his pecs. She tilted her head as she realised she had only ever been around him whilst adoring heels over the past three years. When in stilettoes, Octavia had come up to his collarbone, so it was understandable that she felt like a tiny grain of moondust before him in that moment. Her neck almost hurt as she stared up at him, her head tilted to the side slightly as he smirked down at her curious expression.

Octavia's expression quickly transformed into a scowl as she hauled her eyes from his gaze and made her way over to her mother. Mediana stood with the rest of the women, as they usually congregated whilst the men wandered off to observe the structures more closely. She slipped off her black robes, now no longer obligated to cover her shoulders and body as the muggles were not around. Thank Merlin for that, she mused; for she was beginning to perspire under the humid heat of the blistering sun.

Draping her silk robe over her arm, Octavia now stood in a black two-piece dress; a cropped bandage top and a floor-length skirt with a thigh split. Her curls concealed the bare skin of her shoulders, the blonde ringlets falling freely around her pretty face, cascading down her back beautifully.

Her mother pursed her lips as she eyed Octavia's footwear, clearly as displeased as Leonardo. But, like her husband, Mediana did not speak on the matter, and instead, turned her gaze to the Pyramids ahead.

They had visited the Pyramids before, countless times, yet Alexander Parkinson felt the need to re-inform the part of its history. Octavia actually listened this time, and followed the Parkinson patriarch as he joined the men. Not a single one of them acknowledged Octavia's presence as they made their way toward the ancient structures, the wizard-born following quietly behind them as she listened attentively.

"-of course, the muggles in those days were used as slaves to assemble the structures." Alexander explained to no one in particular.

Octavia was certain that she was the only one listening, as Draco and Blaise conversed quietly together, Leonardo and Lucius doing the same. The only silent one was Octavia. And she would remain so, as her presence had not been acknowledged, and therefore, she could not speak.

 _'Only speak when spoken to,'_ Madame Gracieux' sharp voice echoed in her head.

Yes. Octavia would adhere to the command and expectation, acting ever the lady of status. A charade that would assist her in escaping her engagement to the handsome giant.

"The Pharaohs that the mudbloods served were purebloods of ancient lineage." Alexander continued as they neared the Pyramids. "The mudbloods believed their leaders to be half-man, half-god. It is true, to an extent, is it not? Are we not Godly?"

Octavia glanced at the bigoted patriarch, assessing whether he was being rhetorical or not. He was.

"Even the women that ruled Egypt during their respective dynasties were considered to be godly." Alexander continued. "Cleopatra ruled Egypt when she was seventeen years old; the same age as yourself, Octavia."

Octavia looked at Alexander as he glanced at her over his shoulder, addressing her directly.

"That is interesting, Lord Parkinson." Octavia inclined her head, eager to learn more of this particular leader. "Was she a great ruler?"

"That depends on who you ask," Alexander drawled, returning his stare to the Pyramids. "There is no denying that Cleopatra is a famous historical figure in both, the muggle world and Wizarding."

Octavia nodded, her brow creasing as she struggled to recall any information about the woman.

"Cleopatra is renowned for her beauty and scandals," Alexander continued. "It is undoubtedly the reason for her fame. However, during her rule, she formed close personal and political relationships with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony."

Octavia nodded as she listened intently, finding herself to be rather fascinated by the tale. And she knew that she was only privy to the reiteration of history and able to accompany the men, due to her comfortable footwear. If she had of worn heels, Octavia would be unable to walk on the sand, therefore would be stuck with the women at the apparition point, gossiping about Astoria's behaviour that day.

Whilst Octavia was certainly a supporter and activist of gossip, she found that she was quite happy where she was in that moment. With the men, discussing politics; even if the politics were related to the past. It didn't matter. She was included all the same. And it felt spectacular.

Octavia had never understood Hermione's aversion to stilettoes before, but she did now. Octavia felt as though she was walking on pillows, not gravelly stone. There was no pain in her legs, nor cramped feeling assaulting her feet. It was marvellous.

And it was even more marvellous that it allowed her to join the men for once in her life.

A taste of the life she so desired, but would never have; to be an equal.


	33. Chapter 33

The day of the Banquet had finally arrived, and with it, New Year's Eve and Hermione Granger. Octavia, Pansy and Ninny currently occupied O's grand bedroom in the Zabini Château in Saint Tropez, France.

Much to Hermione's dismay, Pinky was currently attempting to tame the bushy mess atop her head, Pansy and Octavia watching with palpable amusement.

"Please be stills, Misses," Pinky whispered nervously, Hermione wincing and squirming in the chair. "Pinkys is almost dones."

"It hurts more if you move," Octavia sang, lounging on the plush sofa in her bedroom.

Pansy grinned as she huddled up on the armchair, her green eyes alight with sadistic glee as Hermione's hair was pulled and twisted, attacked with countless potions.

"See," Octavia teased. "Now you know the pain I feel every day."

"Is it worth it?" Hermione asked through gritted teeth, Pinky surely bruising her scalp as the comb acted as a torture tool.

"Yes," Pansy laughed elegantly.

"The Banquet doesn't start for another four hours," Hermione winced, her head being yanked back repeatedly by Pinky's assaults. "I was hoping for a tour; not torture."

Octavia snorted indelicately, wiggling her manicured toes as she relaxed on the sofa in the sitting area of her bedroom.

"Beauty is pain," Pansy drawled, rising from the armchair and retrieving a mimosa from the bar table. "Trust me."

"Ow!" Hermione cried as Pinky began to pin braided strands of hair to her scalp.

Octavia snickered as Pansy handed her a flute of mimosa, the pureblood beauty seating herself next to O on the sofa. The two girls sipped on their alcoholic beverages leisurely as they watched Hermione wince and scowl in the chair for the better part of an hour. And not once did it become tedious to watch. It remained thoroughly entertaining for the entire duration.

"How often do you have to endure this?" Hermione groaned in pain.

"Every day," Pansy and Octavia answered in perfect unison.

"It's worth it, though." Octavia claimed. "You'll look amazing."

"Yes, the dress you plan on wearing is quite something," Pansy agreed, glancing at the ball-gown that hung on the closet door.

"It's nice," Hermione nodded.

"Nice?" Pansy quirked her brow. "If I am not mistaken, that particular gown is a Charmant. The fall collection, no?"

"I … I don't know." Hermione frowned uncertainly.

"Yeah," Octavia answered for Ninny. "I bought it for her birthday."

"That is quite a gift," Pansy raised her brows. "On that note, my eighteenth birthday is in seven weeks' time."

Octavia laughed at the girl as Pansy nonchalantly sipped her mimosa.

While Octavia and Pansy's blossoming relationship served as more as an alliance of sorts, Octavia could not deny that she was grateful for the return of the girl into her life. She was always happy to have more friends, and Pansy was proving to be an entertaining one already.

* * *

It was a difficult task for Octavia to descend the staircase in a graceful and sophisticated manner. The heaviness of her ball-gown pulled down on her petite frame, the weight of her crystal and diamond encrusted heels causing difficulty for each step. At the best of times, Octavia tottered around in heels, but hardly floated like she was expected to do so at that moment.

Her left hand placed gently atop the railing of the grand staircase, brushing over the support barrier lightly as she descended the steps slowly. She had to be slow and take her time, lest she tumble down the stairs in front of the observing purebloods.

The foyer of the Zabini château was packed with purebloods from all around Europe and the United Kingdom, all watching as she descended the staircase. But her eyes were only fixed with one observer; Draco Malfoy.

The aristocratic pureblood looked absolutely breath-taking, yet incredibly intimidating as always. His expensive black robes emphasised the marble-like paleness of his skin, his penetrative grey eyes shining like the chandeliers that decorated the foyer. His soft pink lips parted slightly as his cold eyes approvingly assessed the debutante that descended the stairs, his hands placed in the pockets of his trousers. His blonde hair was parted at the left and combed handsomely to the side. If Octavia didn't loathe him so much, she may have admitted to finding him extraordinarily attractive in that moment. She may have acknowledged the tingling sensation in her core and sudden dryness of her mouth.

Draco stood with the other two Malfoy family members and the rest of the Zabinis in the front-centre of the crowd, Hermione standing beside Mediana looking uncomfortable as ever. The married and unavailable men in the crowd were identifiable by top-hats and gentlemen canes, the others adorning neither.

Once she had reached the bottom of the staircase, Octavia performed a graceful curtsey before turning and strolling elegantly toward the line of debutantes who had already been introduced. Alphabetically, Octavia was last to be called for the formal introductions to the event and potential suitors, feeling like a piece of meat being eyed hungrily by an enormous pack of wolves. It just so happened that most terrifying of wolves was her very own predator, and she was his prey.

As she joined the other debutantes and took her place in the queue, the twenty-four girls performed a final curtsey in perfect unison before turning and making their way into the ballroom. The rest of the crowd followed the girls, servants standing like statues by the open grand doors.

The debutantes reached the centre of the ballroom, the crowd dispersing and forming a wide circle around the cluster of girls. A harmonious melody began to sing out around the grand ballroom, the girls beginning the performance of the first dance.

Pansy and Octavia placed their palms together and slowly danced in circles with one another, both wearing expressions of poise and grace, before separating and dancing alone. The debutantes danced and weaved around one another, the crowd watching silently, potential suitors assessing the prospective brides intently. Watching the way they moved and observing their aristocratic facial features. Eyes lingered over the emphasised slim waists of all debutantes, scanning the bosoms of the girls and drinking in the splendour of beauty.

The crystal bodice of Octavia's white ball-gown glistened spectacularly in light of the chandeliers above, the ruffled feather skirt swaying and swooshing with every turn and spin she made. Her tight curls had been tamed and smoothed by potions, now luscious ringlets that cascaded wonderfully down her back. The crystal and diamond shoes that Draco had given her for Christmas clacked inaudibly on the marble floor as she danced, her chin raised and eyes vacant throughout the mundane performance.

But each time she spun and faced the direction of Draco, her hazel eyes sparkled with life and hatred, her lips parting at the shock of his attractiveness.

Octavia couldn't deny that if her marriage to Draco was successful, – which it wouldn't be, of course – they would make quite the attractive couple. Their pale complexions would match, as would the light shade of their blonde hair. But the pure wretchedness of his dark soul would hardly compliment her in the slightest.

Right?

* * *

Standing by her parents and the Malfoys, Octavia laughed brilliantly as Pansy exaggerated the small tumble during the initial dance of the debutantes. Pansy had tripped over the skirt of her ball-gown, tumbling into Octavia as she twirled, both girls grunted and staggered in front of everyone. Thankfully, however, neither debutante actually fell over, so the minor incident was quickly forgotten by the onlookers.

Octavia and Pansy seemingly cared naught about the slight embarrassment, joking and chatting relentlessly about their near-fall. If Octavia had of been alone in the display, she surely would have been inconsolably mortified. But she had Pansy to share her embarrassment with, Pansy assisting in lightening the mood of the wizard-born mere moments after the dance had ended.

"I thought for sure that we were gonna fall," Octavia snickered as Draco handed her a glass of wine.

Octavia took the glass with a slight incline of the head to display her gratitude, before returning her attention to her friends.

Hermione stood beside Pansy, looking a little uncomfortable at her refined surroundings, despite appearing to fit in. Ninny dolled up to pureblood standards was quite the spectacular vision, and by Blaise's frequent ogling of the muggle-born, it would appear that he enjoyed the view.

"Dear," Mediana addressed her cheerful daughter, catching her attention instantly.

Octavia glanced at her mother before following her gaze to an approaching trio, unrecognisable to the wizard-born. They were presumably purebloods from Eastern Europe, given their somewhat exotic appearances.

Pansy and Octavia fell into a patient silence as the trio approached and greeted the Malfoys and Zabinis. Once the formal introductions were complete, the attention shifted to the two debutantes.

"Meet my daughter, Lady Octavia Zabini," Leonardo drawled, gesturing for Octavia to approach.

The wizard-born plastered on a sweet smile as she moved to her father's side, extending her arms widely and curtseying before the trio.

"Octavia, this is Duke and Duchess Krum," Leonardo introduced, "and their son, Viktor Krum."

"A pleasure," Octavia lied, not caring about the family in the slightest.

Pansy approached with Hermione hesitantly walking behind her.

"Lady Pansy Parkinson," Leonardo informed, gesturing to the brunette-beauty.

Viktor inclined his head formally to the two debutantes, his eyes flickering to a quiet Hermione as he awaited the next introduction.

"Miss Hermione Granger," Leonardo drawled, Hermione evidently nervous as she came forward and attempted to perform the curtsey. "My daughter's acquaintance."

Octavia beamed widely as her father introduced Hermione, given that she assumed he would ignore her presence entirely. Her father met her appreciative gaze, offering a fleeting smile before returning his attention to the Krum family.

"You are wearing pink," Viktor observed, eyeing Ninny's ball-gown. "You are engaged, yes?"

"Miss Granger is not a debutante," Leonardo answered for Hermione. "Miss Granger is a guest of my daughter's."

"Will you be a debutante next year?" Viktor asked, his thick accent coating his words to a nearly indecipherable extent.

"No," Hermione smiled politely. "I am not a part of these traditional customs."

"Miss Granger is a muggle-born," Leonardo explained, Viktor raising his brows briefly before nodding in understanding.

"I wonder if the muggle-born guest would like to dance?" Viktor smiled, extending his hand presumptuously to a blushing Hermione.

Ninny met Octavia's gaze to assess the appropriate response, the smirking wizard-born nodding discreetly in response. Blaise stood behind Pansy, his dark eyes narrowing as Hermione placed her hand in Viktor's before being escorted to the centre of the ballroom to dance.

"Well," Narcissa cleared her throat, evidently surprised at Krum's interest in a muggle-born. "Perhaps you, Octavia, would like to dance with Draco?"

"Of course, My Lady," Octavia lied through her teeth, resisting the urge to kick the woman in the shin.

Draco took her glass of wine and placed it atop the nearby servant's tray, before resting his hand on the small of her back and escorting her toward the dancefloor. Octavia spared a quick glance over her shoulder, noticing that Blaise and Pansy were following suit, the Stronzo looking rather sour.

A smirk graced Octavia's plump pink lips as she turned to face ahead, Draco pulling her against him as they reached the dancefloor. Robotically, Octavia placed her hand in his and her other hand on his shoulder as he led the dance, an appropriate amount of distance between their bodies.

"Has your desired suitor arrived yet?" Draco asked coolly, staring down at the stunning wizard-born.

"You can say his name, Draco." Octavia rolled her eyes. "We both know that you know who he is."

"I'd rather not." Draco clipped, twirling the vision around before resuming his formal hold on her. "When will he be arriving?"

"How is that your business?" Octavia scoffed, her eyes on the nearby grandfather clock.

It was 8pm with no sign of her boyfriend. However, Cedric had assured that he would arrive no later than 10pm, but predicted that his arrival would be at 9pm. She hoped for 9pm, given that it would allow her more time to exaggerate her happiness around him for the benefit of her father.

"You are anxious," Draco observed, staring down at her with analytical eyes. "Is your mysterious little scheme in play?"

"Like I'd tell you that," Octavia scowled up at him. "We don't need to talk, thanks."

"If we are not to speak, how could I inform you of your enchanting appearance tonight?" Draco drawled, quirking his brow.

"Save it, Draco." Octavia scoffed. "You're not fooling me."

"There is no need, when you are clearly preoccupied by fooling yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Octavia snapped, glowering up at the striking aristocrat.

"You harbour futile hope that our contracts will be terminated," Draco mocked condescendingly. "In every game we play, Octavia, I triumph. Why do you waste your energy in resisting it?"

"My life is not a game," Octavia hissed before he twirled her.

"Isn't it?" Draco smirked, pulling her against him before dipping her.

Octavia snarled up at him before he pulled her back into a standing position and resuming their dance.

"Your lover is not coming, Octavia." Draco drawled icily. "He cares naught about you."

"And you do?" Octavia laughed emptily.

"I value what is mine," Draco responded coolly.

"I'll never be yours." Octavia sniffed importantly, glancing at the grandfather clock again.

The music ended briefly, the dances ending with it, before a slower melody began to resound through the ballroom. Draco stepped away from her, taking her hand in his and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

"You have always been mine," Draco whispered dangerously.

* * *

Octavia narrowed her eyes at her brother across the ballroom, despising that he was currently locked into a gaze with Hermione. They had barely taken their eyes off one another during the festivities, but had not spoken. Octavia simply loathed her brother in that moment. She felt injustice on Hermione's behalf, knowing that his frequent stares were only serving to reignite the flame that Ninny harboured for the Zabini heir.

Not only that, he had sworn to assist her in convincing their father of Cedric's suitability for Octavia as a husband. Which he was obviously not doing.

Despite the surrounding refined purebloods, Octavia scowled as she stomped toward her brother by the piano. Blaise noticed his tantrum-prone sister's approach, quirking his brow at her scowling expression as he sipped his tumbler of fire whiskey casually.

"Sister," Blaise greeted in a bored drawl.

Octavia stopped before him, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her hip to the side as the skirt of her dress swayed at her feet.

"Don't _sister_ me, Stronzo!" Octavia hissed, ensuring that she wasn't heard by nearby purebloods. "Why aren't you with father?"

"Father is unavailable at present." Blaise shrugged casually. "Why are you on the verge of causing chaos?"

"You're supposed to be helping me, remember?" Octavia quirked her brow importantly, her nose raising in the air. "You said you would."

"I have been adhering to my promise," Blaise drawled, swirling his tumbler. "Have I not been with father for the majority of this tedious event?"

"But you're not with him now," Octavia enunciated, jabbing her index finger against his chest with each word. "You have to make sure no one gets in his ear."

"Like who?" Blaise smirked. "Your fiancé is with Theodore."

Octavia scowled. "Just do what I say!"

"Anything else, your majesty?" Blaise grinned.

"Yeah," Octavia huffed. "Stop checking out Ninny."

"I was not," Blaise drawled, all sign of humour gone from his stony expression.

"You haven't stop gawking at her," Octavia accused. "Stop it."

"I do not know what you are referring to," Blaise responded coolly, his eyes darkening.

"Oh, come off it." Octavia scoffed. "I've noticed, and so has she. You guys can't stop staring at each other, and it's pointless. Don't lead her on, Blaise."

"Perhaps you should focus on the chaos in your own romantic life, and keep your upturned nose out of mine." Blaise snarled, stepping closer to his unwavering sister.

"My nose isn't upturned," Octavia pouted, prodding at her nose as she crossed her eyes to assess it.

"The shape of your nose is irrelevant," Blaise clipped tersely. "The issue lies with how you repeatedly shove it into business that does not concern you."

"My friend concerns me," Octavia bit, forgetting all about her facial feature. "We've been through this already, and you hurt her then. So just leave her be. No looking, no touching, no talking. Nothing."

"When did I become your subordinate?" Blaise quirked his brow. "I must have missed the memo."

"If you talk to her," Octavia whispered in a threatening tone. "If you so much as look at her, I'll just _accidently_ let Violet run rampant around your bedroom and pee all over your stuff."

Blaise clenched his jaw, hating that blasted dog with every fibre of his being. It wouldn't be the first time that Violet had urinated freely in his bedroom. And he was certain that each time it had occurred was hardly by 'accident'.

"If your mutt goes near my belongings, father will learn of your costume at Halloween."

"If you tell father that, I'll tell him that Hermione was your date." Octavia smirked.

"He is aware of that fact," Blaise stated tersely, recalling the reason for the premature end to his relationship with Granger.

Octavia pursed her lips as she ransacked her brain for extra dirt on her brother. She came up with nothing.

"Checkmate," Blaise clipped with a smirk before pushing passed her and strolling into the crowd.

* * *

Leonardo puffed at his cigar as he eyed the snowy fields ahead. He stood on the stone balcony of the parlour beside Lucius, the Malfoy patriarch lighting his own cigar before picking up the tumbler of fire-whiskey from the ledge.

"When is he to arrive?" Lucius asked, smoke billowing out of his mouth.

"Not for another hour," Leonardo replied before puffing at his thick cigar.

"The suitor is unworthy," Lucius shook his head. "I do not understand Octavia's insistence to unite with the boy. Draco is an appropriate husband; what more is there to it?"

Leonardo licked his tobacco-tasting lips, his dark eyes fixed on the scenery ahead.

"I believe she will use Cedric's presence at the Banquet in an attempt to persuade me into reconsidering the contract," Leonardo mused, swirling his tumbler before sipping the amber liquid.

"She is a hopeful girl," Lucius chuckled. "Perhaps entitled."

"Quite so," Leonardo smirked, feeling a surge of fondness for his spoilt child. "It matters naught, though. I will not be breaking the contract."

"Octavia can be quite persuasive," Lucius drawled, side-glancing at his comrade.

"Indeed she can be," Leonardo nodded. "I, however, will not relent to her manipulations. Draco is the appropriate husband for her."

"Due to his sentiments regarding your daughter?"

"In part," Leonardo agreed. "I do wish for my only daughter to be wed to a man who truly loves her, like Draco does. The wealth of your family, however, is the primary factor in my resolve. Octavia fools herself into thinking that she will be content without luxuries, but it will only bring her gloom."

"Yes, she is a pampered girl, to be sure." Lucius said before puffing at his cigar. "Draco can cater to her whimsical desires, financially speaking."

"His patience holds strong with her, also." Leonardo added. "I do not believe that Cedric can manage her frequent strops and tantrums as well as Draco does."

"Octavia is considerably high-maintenance." Lucius drawled as Leonardo hummed in agreement. "I have no doubt in my mind that she will suit our family well."

"I must say," Leonardo said as exhaled cigar smoke. "I expected resistance from you in regards to their impending marriage."

Lucius sipped at his fire-whiskey, his blue eyes twinkling with the reflection of the full moon above.

"I was displeased," Lucius relented, placing his empty tumbler on the stone barrier of the balcony. "When Draco informed me via owl of his intentions, I attempted to convince him otherwise."

"Yet, you are in support of the union now." Leonardo stated, eyeing Lucius curiously.

"Draco has cared for Octavia since their first meeting," Lucius sighed. "A connection that occurred when they were little more than three years old. It appears that the connection has not diminished, but grew resentful and dark. Draco will rediscover his true sentiments for the girl."

"Indeed," Leonardo clipped, bristled as he recalled rumours of Draco's poor treatment of Octavia.

"I believe that Draco is unaware of the true depths of his feelings for your daughter," Lucius continued. "He is fond of her, yes. He harbours great affection for the girl, but I do not believe he has realised his love for her at this point in time."

"And that impacted your approval, how?"

"When I recognised how determined he was to have her as his wife, I realised that he still loved the girl." Lucius explained. "When one, like ourselves, truly loves a lady of Octavia's standing, how can I object? Draco is fortunate to possess genuine feelings for one of his own; therefore, I can overlook her inabilities in favour of her status and the political advantages of their union."

Leonardo nodded, understanding Lucius' reasons for dismissing Octavia's wizard-born status. She was the wealthiest prospective bride within the confines of the United Kingdom, so the union between the two families was quite effective indeed. Not only would it increase the wealth of the Malfoys, by the transferal of Octavia's shares in the Zabini Empire, it would create a new power-couple within their society.

The marriage was equally as advantageous for the Zabinis, for their political voice and influence within the Wizarding World would strengthen with the legal connection to the Malfoys. The two families would increase their power and status beyond measure.

"I do have to ask," Leonardo drawled. "When they were children, you were hesitant to enter into negotiations regarding their contract. However, that was before Octavia's lack of magic was revealed to us."

Lucius placed his hand on the bannister, inhaling a deep puff of his cigar before smoke billowed out of his mouth. Leonardo watched him out the corner of his eye, swirling his tumbler before sipping the amber liquid.

"You know that I harboured suspicions about her true origin," Lucius replied coolly, meeting his comrade's dark eyes.

"And now?"

"Now," Lucius exhaled deeply, smoke pouring out from his parted lips. "I remain unsure."

"She is my daughter," Leonardo stated sternly.

"Yes," Lucius nodded, not refuting that matter. "Biologically, however? I cannot be certain."

"You still possess these suspicions, yet you allow a healer of my choosing to perform the blood-tests," Leonardo stated with a quirked brow.

"Whether she is your biological daughter, or that of Adela Yaxley's, she is a pureblood." Lucius shrugged elegantly. "That is what matters."

Leonardo nodded as he fingered his crystal tumbler absentmindedly. The only cause of the common suspicions of Octavia's origin was due to her contrasting appearance to the rest of the Zabini family. Her pale complexion differed entirely with the tanned olive-skin of her mother, father and brother. Her blonde curls were unlike the straight black hair of her family, and the bright hazel eyes differed from the black eyes of the other three Zabinins.

It was understandable that some within pureblood society harboured suspicions of her biological parentage. As Mediana had been in Italy for the duration of the war, due to her pregnancy, the only witnesses to the birth were Mediana's parents and Leonardo himself. Leonardo had portkeyed to Italy the moment he received news of his wife's labour, and had bared witness to the birth.

Mediana had not returned to Britain until the war and trials had ended, bringing her two children home with her. Once Leonardo had been cleared of all charges, the pair introduced their children, aged three, to pureblood society; one boy and one girl.

The girl whose origin was questioned relentlessly within the whispering shadows of pureblood society.

* * *

Her hands wrung together anxiously as she stood with her parents, apprehensive hazel eyes fixed on the grandfather clock against the wall. It was ten minutes' shy of 11pm, and Cedric had yet to arrive at the Zabini château. Either he had missed his portkey, or he had decided against attending. Octavia hoped for the former, as there was always the chance that he could request an emergency portkey from the Ministry. He could be on his way at that very moment. He could be approaching the grand doors of the château.

It was possible, right?

Dread pooled in her tummy, disappointment clenching at her rapidly beating heart as she chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. If Cedric did not arrive before the courting dance began, it was likely that she would have to perform the Amare Chorum solo. Draco would surely allow her to dance alone in front of the entire crowd, just to punish her for her rejection of him. She had advised him that she would not be dancing with him in the courting dance, so she feared that he would allow her to humiliate herself beyond measure as retaliation.

So far, the night had not gone as she had anticipated. There was no Cedric in attendance to assist her in manipulating her father. There was no sweet and catering boyfriend on her arm to assist her in displaying grand and exaggerated happiness. The night was not what she had expected, and as a consequence, Draco was further solidifying his place as her fiancé. It was disastrous.

"Where is your ribbon, dear?" Mediana asked, Octavia yanking her longing gaze from the grandfather clock.

"Oh," Octavia blinked. "I dunno."

"You do not know?" Leonardo asked with a quirked brow.

Octavia shrugged meekly as the Malfoys turned their attention to the girl, Draco clenching his jaw tightly. He was certain that she had 'forgotten' to wear the ribbon on her wrist, as he had advised her of the announcement of their engagement via the ribbon ceremony. The little wizard-born was doing all within her power to prevent it.

Leonardo sighed wearily as he summoned a nearby servant dressed smartly.

"My daughter seems to have misplaced her ribbon," Leonardo drawled tediously. "Retrieve it."

The servant bowed deeply before dispersing into the crowd and following the Lord's command instantly. Octavia pouted fleetingly at her minor defeat, her vexed hazel orbs meeting cold grey eyes, Draco's icy stare flickering with victory.

Her foot began to tap against the marble floor as she returned her gaze to the grandfather clock, resuming her prior chewing of her bottom lip.

"Octavia," Narcissa addressed lightly. "Are you nervous about performing the Amare Chorum?"

"Huh?" Octavia turned her gaze the patiently smiling woman. "Oh, uh … Yes, Lady Malfoy. Quite nervous."

Narcissa laughed elegantly. "You have nothing to fear. I am sure that you have practiced the dance and will perform it with grace and poise."

"Yes, My Lady." Octavia nodded, her words not soothing her in the slightest.

Narcissa inclined her head before turning her attention to Mediana, the women speaking in hushed tones, evidently about Octavia's true source of apprehension.

"Are you ok?" Hermione whispered, standing between Octavia and Pansy.

"He's not coming, is he?" Octavia sighed miserably, her pained hazel eyes meeting Ninny's understanding gaze.

"Who isn't coming?" Pansy asked in a hushed tone, stepping closer to the two girls.

Octavia and Hermione shared a glance, O debating internally as to whether she should inform her new/old friend of the truth. Hermione's brows raised fleetingly, evidently surprised that Pansy was not privy to the knowledge of O's relationship with Cedric. The two girls had appeared as close as ever during the night, Hermione assaulted with an unjustified bitter taste of jealousy. Now, however, Hermione felt a surge of importance, given that she knew of the relationship and Pansy did not.

"No one," Octavia shook her head, waving her hand dismissively.

Pansy assessed the wizard-born intently. "I do love secrets."

"Let's hope you love when you're not privy to them," Octavia smirked, Hermione stifling a snicker.

"Testy," Pansy grinned as the music stopped.

Octavia inhaled sharply as the musician spoke, her wand pressed against her windpipe to increase the volume of her voice.

"Please welcome the debutantes in their final ceremonial dance of the night," she announced, her voice booming around the otherwise silent room. "The Amare Chorum!"

The purebloods that filled the grand ballroom applauded lightly as the debutantes all made their way to the front of the room, spreading out and taking their assigned places by status. Octavia had never wished to poor in her life, but she did at that moment.

For the sheer wealth of her family had her front and centre in the line-up of debutantes, ensuring that if she was left to dance alone, everyone would see. Although they would see even if she was at the end of the line-up. It just felt worse this way. She felt as though they were all focused on her.

Swallowing audibly, Octavia turned her back on the crowd, raising her arms to linger above the poufy skirt of her ball-gown and awaiting the dramatic melody to sound out. Before she turned, however, she made sure to glance at the clock just one more time.

As though it would cause Cedric to magically appear and join her in the dance, saving her from public humiliation and the clutches of Draco Malfoy.

One could only hope.

The spine of her back was straight as she stood tall, her chin raised and face void of the anxiousness eating away at her soul. Slowly, the beginning of the melody began, an eerie tune singing out as her hands gradually turned palms-upwards. The performer on the stage began to sing seconds into the tune with a deep and eerily beautiful voice, all debutantes remaining still as the purebloods in the ballroom watched in attentive silence.

 _'_ _And I know it's true; that visions are seldom all they seem.'_

The hauntingly majestic voice of the woman on stage continued, accompanied by the orchestral instruments in a steady and slow pace. As the pace of the instruments and vocals increased, the debutantes began to slowly sway on the spot, the poufy skirts of their ball-gowns swishing and rustling against the marble floor.

 _'_ _You'll love me at once, the way you did once, upon a dream.'_

The approaching end of the first verse caused all debutantes to gracefully turn and face the crowd with slow movements of poise and elegance. Octavia was sure that her heart could be seen pounding violently within her chest, the thumping surely visible against her bosom. Her anxious hazel eyes met with the icy stare of Draco Malfoy, his hands in his pockets as he observed her dance gracefully.

The haunting lullaby fell into a sombre silence before the vocals resumed in a humming noise, and instruments sounded out with a powerful effect. The debutantes all kept their arms raised, their hands upturned gracefully as the slowly stepped, turned and weaved around one another for the bridge of the song. Pansy and Octavia came face-to-face, placing the palms of their hands together before swaying in perfect unison, the dark-haired pureblood offering the nervous wizard-born a reassuring smile before composing her features.

 _'_ _But if I know you, I know what you'll do.'_

The girls stepped toward each other before pushing away gracefully and spinning. The pureblood girls performed the dance silently, twirling around one another. They all leaped in the air, landing perfectly on their feet and spinning again, resuming their original positions in the line-up.

 _'_ _You'll love at me once, the way you did once, upon a dream.'_

Facing the observing crowd, Octavia stood still with the rest of the girls for a moment, awaiting the melody to begin again. The emotions were bubbling inside of her, tears threatening to well up in her big hazel eyes, the fear of inevitable humiliation and rejection pumping adrenaline through her shaky body. Once the smoky vocals sounded out, presenting a bewitching come-hither melody, the debutantes swayed slowly, their expressions void of anything but poise.

 _'_ _I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream.'_

A sinister tune joined the haunting song of the Amare Chorum, the girls turning their backs on the observers and dancing smoothly toward the stage. At this moment, the assigned partners of the dance would be approaching, but Octavia knew that no one was approaching her. Cedric had not arrived, and she would therefore dance the Amare Chorum alone, drenched in horrendous humiliation. Unable to ever live it down within the pureblood society.

 _'_ _I know you; that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.'_

Draco had the opportunity to join her in the dance, but she was certain that he would use the chance to punish her for her rejection of him. That is who he was. That is what he was. A punisher. A cruel man determined to make her life as miserable as possible.

 _'_ _But if I know, I know what you'll do.'_

Octavia resisted the urge to flee, knowing that she would be the only debutante to perform the end of the dance alone. She shut her eyes and held her breath, turning and twirling repeatedly back toward the crowd, her heart beating a mile a second within her aching chest. Her eyes remained shut as the pace of the song increased, the mid-section of the verse causing all debutantes, including Octavia, to jump in the air, her arms spread. Ready for no one to catch her, unprepared for the mortification that would bring her to tears.

 _'_ _You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.'_

Her eyes snapped open as two large hands grabbed her waist mid-air, her heart fluttering and relief swelling inside of her as she gazed down at her dance-partner.

* * *

A/N: Song – Once Upon A Dream, by .Ray


	34. Chapter 34

The Pureblood Squib - Final Chapter.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story, and please remember to review.

* * *

 _'_ _But if I know, I know what you'll do.'_

Octavia resisted the urge to flee, knowing that she would be the only debutante to perform the end of the dance alone. She shut her eyes and held her breath, turning and twirling repeatedly back toward the crowd, her heart beating a mile a second within her aching chest. Her eyes remained shut as the pace of the song increased, the mid-section of the verse causing all debutantes, including Octavia, to jump in the air, her arms spread.

 _'_ _You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.'_

Her eyes snapped open as two large hands grabbed her waist mid-air, her heart fluttering and relief swelling inside of her as she gazed down at her dance-partner.

Octavia's breath hitched as she stared down at Draco, the pureblood holding her waist firmly and turning full-circle, their gazes locked. He held her close, her nose grazing against his as he lowered her to her feet, his peppermint and whiskey breath fleetingly brushing over her parted lips. The vocals ended, the melody slowing, as Octavia's heels connected gently with the ground, Draco's hands moving from her waist and dropping at his sides as he faced the crowd.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Octavia placed her hand on his chest, her palm grazing to his shoulder as she gracefully circled him. Her fingertips brushed along his muscular back and back around to his chest before she stopped directly in front of the composed man. The ominous tune began to slow and quieten, Octavia slowly dropping to her knees at his feet, her head bowed low as he stared down at her indifferently.

The song ended and the crowd began to applaud the debutantes and suitors, Draco extending his hand as Octavia placed hers in his. He helped her to her feet, his cold eyes never leaving her conflicted hazel orbs; seeing the relief glimmer brilliantly, dimmed slightly by her defeat and sadness.

Octavia curtseyed deeply, Draco standing tall and firm as he watched her perform the expected gesture of gratitude. Once she straightened herself, Draco placed his hands in his pockets and departed the dancefloor as the debutantes and suitors dispersed, Octavia following closely behind.

The occupants of the ballroom fell into a chatter again, the debutantes reaching their parents, or continuing to dance with their suitors. Octavia followed Draco toward the nearby Malfoys and Zabinis, Pansy and Blaise at their heels.

"You girls were splendid to watch," Narcissa praised lightly as they approached.

Leonardo inclined his head to Octavia, indicating his approval of her performance and behaviour. She managed a tight smile in response, that appeared to be more of a grimace. While she felt abundant relief at Draco's participation in the dance, she felt total misery too. She was grateful, yet angered. Her emotions were simply in chaos.

"Oh, it was simply nerve-wracking," Pansy complained elegantly. "I was concerned the entire time that I would trip."

"Perhaps a drink will soothe your frayed nerves?" Blaise asked, playing the part of the perfect fiancé.

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Pansy smiled as Blaise clicked his fingers at a nearby waiter.

Octavia thinned her lips at the fleeting scowl that graced Hermione's face, no one else noticing Ninny's displeasure or jealousy. O felt great sympathy for her muggle-born friend, but nothing could be done about the situation. Blaise was Pansy's fiancé, and would remain so until they wed. Hermione and Blaise would never happen, so it was best for their relationship to remain formal.

Draco pulled her out of her thoughts as he slipped his arm around her waist, his hand gripping her side lightly. Her expression of sympathy quickly transformed into bitter resentment.

"We found your ribbon," Leonardo informed coolly, removing a silk purple ribbon from his trouser pocket. "In the bin, no less."

"Oh?" Octavia blushed as Narcissa and Mediana quirked their brows at her. "That's weird."

Octavia cleared her throat as she took the ribbon and clumsily tied it around her wrist, averting her eyes from the stern gazes of the adults. Even Draco was staring harshly at her as he handed her a glass of wine, Blaise providing Pansy with a glass also. Octavia didn't miss the muggle-born pursing her lips in displeasure.

"Thank you," Octavia whispered, taking the glass of wine from Draco's grasp.

But they both knew that she was expressing her gratitude for his participation in the dance. It was not for the wine, but for saving her from public mortification.

"It is my pleasure," Draco replied coolly, his tone suggesting his vexation of Octavia attempting to throw out her ribbon.

"You decided on purple, I see." Narcissa commented, eyeing the ribbon around O's wrist.

Most debutantes had chosen black or white ribbons, as the ribbons were soon to be tied around the wrists of their fiancés; men in the pureblood world tended to avoid wearing feminine colours. Perhaps Octavia had chosen purple as another act of rebellion against Draco and her engagement. Perhaps she just loved purple.

"Yes," Octavia smiled, eyeing the silk ribbon. "Isn't it a lovely shade?"

Draco observed the ribbon that was soon to adorn his wrist, his icy eyes resting on the smug wizard-born.

"Indeed," Narcissa nodded. "Although, I would have personally selected a colour that is perhaps more suitable, given the occasion."

"Oh, Draco doesn't mind, surely." Octavia dismissed, her challenging gaze meeting Draco's icy stare.

"Of course not." Draco drawled, his fierce eyes penetrating hers. "A unique ribbon for a unique fiancé."

Octavia's upper lip twitched, the wizard-born resisting the temptation to snarl at the prat before she settled on a false smile and returned her attention to the others. There was no doubt in her mind that he was referring to her wizard-born status as 'unique', issuing a sly insult.

"How did you find the courting dance?" Pansy asked, addressing Hermione.

"It was lovely," Hermione nodded, her lips tightening somewhat. "Very graceful, and the melody was captivating."

"I never liked the dance," Viktor Krum stated, approaching the group and handing Hermione a drink. "I found it a bit sexist. Particularly the kneeling at the end."

Draco quirked his brow, his arm still wrapped around Octavia's waist, as he swirled his tumbler leisurely. The wizard-born remained tense in his hold, but didn't attempt to escape.

"I must say that I agree," Hermione smiled, relieved that another shared her opinion. "While the dance was lovely to witness, the kneeling displayed a segregation of gender, and perhaps symbolised the roles in which women play in the pureblood society."

Octavia shot Ninny a pointed look, essentially telling her to shut up. Octavia wholeheartedly agreed with her friend regarding the sexism of the dance, but it was not the time nor place to vocalise such thoughts. That much was clear when the others – predominantly the men – bristled at the opinions of Hermione and Viktor.

The latter seemed to sense the offense he had partly caused, taking the drink from Hermione. He offered her his arm, which she took with a smile, and escorted her toward the dancefloor for the third time that night.

But for the countless time that night, Blaise scowled at the Quidditch player of pure blood and wealth, his grip on his crystal tumbler tightening visibly.

"I see where Octavia is picking up her rebellious inclinations," Lucius drawled.

Leonardo nodded, his stern gaze on his conflicted daughter. While Octavia had been on her best behaviour that night, it seemed that her father felt the need to issue her a disapproving stare in response to another's behaviour. It was hardly O's fault that Hermione had spoken out of turn. It wasn't her fault that Ninny had spoken the truth.

"Her world is different to ours," Octavia shrugged, Draco's fingers digging into her waist momentarily. "Women in her culture are equal to men."

Leonardo's eyes blazed with anger as he tightened his jaw and glowered at his daughter.

"I'm not saying that I agree, father." Octavia frowned. "I'm just reminding you that Hermione's beliefs are what they are, because of her culture."

Lucius nodded, seemingly satisfied with Octavia's reasoning, while Leonardo considered his daughter for moment before inclining his head in approval. The grip on her waist tightened as she glanced at the clock again, assessing the time, therefore determining how long she had until her engagement was announced. Draco evidently knew that she was scraping her mind for ways out of their engagement, his arm wrapped around her to prevent an escape.

He didn't doubt that the little squib would excuse herself to the bathroom and lock herself in during the ribbon ceremony. Not that he couldn't unlock the door via magic, but it was less hassle this way. The less she worked herself up, the smoother the announcement would go.

So predictable.

"Excuse me," Octavia began her attempt to flee.

"Where are you going?" Leonardo asked suspiciously, evidently experiencing the same thoughts as Draco. "The ribbons will be exchanged shortly."

"Nature calls, father." Octavia drawled dismissively.

"Nature can wait." Draco stated tersely, his harsh eyes boring down at her. "The ceremony will begin in a matter of minutes."

Octavia pursed her lips as she glowered up at him. At her fiancé. At the man who had spit in her face, thrown her into a bathtub during detention, fired hex after hex at her over seven long years, forced countless kisses upon her reluctant lips, trapped her in a closet with a boggart. The man she loathed, yet was sold to as though she were little more than cattle.

"Draco's right, dear." Mediana interjected, glancing at the clock. "We cannot risk tardiness."

"I have to pee." Octavia lied, her crassness causing Narcissa to gasp and Lucius to choke on his fire-whiskey.

Octavia didn't care. Every second that ticked by, brought her closer to the announcement. It brought her closer to the fate she didn't want, nor deserved. It brought her closer to the Devil.

Pansy smirked into her wine glass, her twinkling brown eyes focused on the scowling Zabini heiress as she attempted to wiggle out Draco's strong hold.

"It can wait." Draco growled, tightening his hold on her.

Octavia's nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, her body tense in his hold as she turned her furious hazel orbs to meet his icy mercurial eyes.

Every bit of fear, anger, hatred, hurt, agony, lust, betrayal, love- Every emotion he had ever stirred within her came crashing down on her with wrathful vengeance, her exterior cracking and shattering in the middle of the ballroom.

"Octavia," Leonardo scolded with a deep voice. "If I did not know any better, I would suspect that you are attempting to avoid the ceremony and announcement."

"So what if I am?" Octavia hissed, slapping Draco's hand from her waist as Narcissa and Mediana raised their brows. "Can you blame me?"

"Is this how you carry yourself when things do not go your way?" Narcissa asked coolly, Octavia's actions causing nearby purebloods to eavesdrop. "You have conducted yourself in an appropriate manner tonight, yet you are willing to bring shame to your family when your schemes do not come to fruition?"

"Oh, shut up." Octavia rolled her eyes. "You're not my mother, so stop acting like you are."

Mediana gasped, placing her hand over her agape mouth as Leonardo's eyes widened and Lucius stood frozen in shock.

Draco snatched O's wrist tightly, yanking her chest against his as he snarled down at her, his fierce eyes shining with a promise of retaliation and punishment.

"Control yourself," Draco seethed through clenched teeth, Octavia scowling up at him. "Petulant child."

Blaise's widened eyes darted between Octavia, Draco and Leonardo, his heart thumping in his chest as dread ran through his veins. He had feared this. He had feared and dreaded this very moment.

The moment when Octavia cracked.

"Fuck you!" Octavia spat, yanking her wrist from his grip. "I won't marry you! I am not yours, and I have never been yours!"

Octavia swiftly raised her hand and belted him harshly across the face, the sound of the collision cracking through the air. Gasps echoed around the two families, Pansy grinning widely like a giddy school-girl, Draco's face turned to the side as his cheek grew red from the assault.

The music that sounded out around the ballroom was unable to penetrate the thick silence that fell over the group, Octavia's plump bosom heaving as adrenaline surged through every fibre of her being. Her lips parted as she breathed harshly, pure hatred radiating from her pores as she stared at Draco with wrathful fury. Draco slowly - so very slowly - turned his head to face the fuming wizard-born, his stormy eyes raging with murderous fury.

His upper lip curled as his scathing eyes penetrated hers, one word escaping his lips. One word that he spoke aloud, despite not needing to. A word that had Octavia complacent and silent immediately.

 _'_ _Imperio.'_

Leonardo was practically shaking with pure rage as he glared at the back of his daughter's head, his wife on the verge of tears at the shocking display.

"Narcissa," Mediana whispered, resting her hand on the blonde woman's forearm. "I have no words. I cannot apologise enough for my daughter's behaviour."

"No matter," Narcissa smiled tightly. "Octavia is nervous, and has broken under the pressure that she is unprepared for. I understand."

Draco remained motionless, his body tense as he glowered savagely into the vacant hazel eyes of the imperiused Octavia. She blinked lazily, a relaxed expression gracing her stunning features as she returned his stare, gazing dreamily into his murderous eyes.

The wizard-born remained under his control as the music ended and the performer announced the ribbon ceremony. Draco clenched his jaw tightly, raising his chin as his icy eyes remained fixed on the complacent girl, Octavia blinking vacantly at him, awaiting his commands.

 _Come._

He turned and walked toward the cleared area of the dancefloor, Octavia tottering behind him as she gazed dreamily at his back, her head tilting to the side as he issued non-verbal commands. Following his orders, Octavia walked silently behind him, their families watching from the crowd as he kept the unforgivable on the wizard-born.

 _Stop._

Draco halted in the centre of the clear space, Blaise two metres to his left and the rest of the suitors taking their assigned places. The brides-to-be all stood a few feet away from their fiancés, the men – Draco included – turning to face their debutantes.

 _Remove the ribbon and smile._

Octavia smiled warmly at a livid Draco, her slender fingers delicately untying the ribbon from around her wrist as the other debutantes did the same. She felt so relaxed and content, eager to please Draco and perform his every command. It was so easy; he demanded, and she did. It was so simple. She had never felt freer.

 _Kneel at my feet, mudblood._

Octavia blinked at the insulting word that sliced through her mind before she resumed her sweet smile and approached him gracefully. Draco remained motionless and stoic, except the blazing fury in his stormy eyes, as Octavia knelt at his feet, her wide hazel eyes gazing up at him vacantly.

 _Offer your ribbon to me._

The debutantes straightened their ribbons to fall over their upturned palms in perfect unison, before they raised their hands, bowed their heads, and offered their fiancés the ribbons. Each man took the offered ribbons from their betrotheds, but Draco remained still and tense as he stared down at the wizard-born kneeling at his feet.

 _Look at me._

Octavia raised her head, her eyes instantly locking with his as the gentle smile remained on her exceptionally pretty face. Her hands remained raised, the ribbon draped across her palms as she gazed up at him, the hazel of her eyes sparkling beneath the chandeliers.

The onlookers grew interested as they watched Draco stare at his debutante, not yet taking the offered ribbon. Leonardo thinned his lips, Mediana by his side as they anxiously watched the interaction, hoping to Merlin that Draco did not break the contract in front of everyone. They breathed a sigh of relief as Draco's hand reached out and took the ribbon from Octavia gently, his burning eyes never leaving the kneeling girl.

Draco held the ribbon in his clenched fist, his jaw tightened and dimples appearing on his cheeks. Not the cute kind, no. They were the dimples that appeared when he was at his most enraged. When he clenched his jaw so tightly, it was a wonder that his teeth didn't shatter within his mouth.

Octavia placed her hands on her lap as she continued to gaze up at him, a warm smile twisting at her luscious lips, patiently awaiting her next command.

 _Stand._

Indelicately, Octavia got to her feet, tripping on the poufy skirt of her gown several times before righting herself and relocking her eyes with Draco's. The crowd was engrossed by the peculiar display, watching intently as Draco pushed passed his fiancé and stormed out of the ballroom, the smiling wizard-born tottering behind him.

Leonardo and Lucius shared a concerned glance before turning and following the engaged pair out of the ballroom, Narcissa and Mediana at their heels. Pansy and Blaise remained silent, watching – with the rest of the crowd – as the Malfoys and Zabinis disappeared out of the doors to the ballroom, entering the privacy of the foyer as the doors shut behind them.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked, reaching Pansy and Blaise.

Blaise glowered at the muggle-born as she approached, his anger of her association with Viktor still stewing deep within him.

"Octavia slapped Draco," Pansy whispered, all previous humour gone from her face and voice.

It was all fun and games until Octavia provoked Draco to an undeniably dangerous point. And that point was when she whacked his face in the middle of the ballroom. Pansy had lost all sense of enjoyment in that moment, and now only harboured fear and concern for her friend.

Hermione exhaled deeply as she turned her gaze to the closed doors of the ballroom, her heart weighing down inside of her chest.

This was not good.

Pansy caught her father's eyes, the racist Parkinson patriarch giving her a pointed and stern look, which she understood all too well. He was displeased about her associations with a muggle-born that night.

"Excuse me," Pansy drawled gracefully before leaving Blaise and Hermione, in favour for her bigoted father.

Hermione cleared her throat, the awkwardness between her and Blaise never clearer than in that moment as they averted their eyes from one another.

"Are you not going to help your sister?" Hermione demanded, shifting the awkward atmosphere to a tense one.

"It is no longer my place," Blaise answered, swirling his tumbler leisurely. "Now that the engagement has been announced, my presence as a representative of Octavia is no longer required. That is Draco's role now."

"Are you serious?" Hermione scoffed. "You are choosing the stupid rules of your society over supporting your sister?"

"The only support that I can offer Octavia now, is to act as her brother." Blaise sighed, not bristled in the slightest by Hermione's provocative tone. "If she requires a shoulder to cry on, my shoulder will be the one used."

"What makes you think she'd come to you and not her friends?" Hermione sneered. "You obviously don't care about –"

Blaise's eyes flashed as he closed the small distance between them with one swift step, his furious eyes boring down at the faltering muggle-born. She quickly composed herself, however, and raised her chin defiantly.

"My sister is everything to me," Blaise seethed, his eyes ablaze with fury. "You think I want her to be the wife of Draco? You think I allowed this to happen without doing everything in my power to stop the engagement? There is no one whom I love more than my sister, and you would do well to never suggest otherwise."

Was it bad that Hermione felt a twinge of jealousy? Yes. It was. She quickly shoved that down, however, and focused on the infuriated pureblood in front of her. Hermione was a perceptive person, so she saw what the anger was masking in those dark eyes. She saw the concern and the defeat; the pain.

"If you love her, like you say you do," Hermione whispered, ensuring that no one overheard. "You will help her."

"Nothing more can be done, Granger." Blaise hissed, the venom in his tone reflecting his self-loathing. "It is finalised. It is done. And after her little outburst, I have no doubt that Octavia will not be returning to Hogwarts. It is likely that she will be forced to carry out her education with a governess at home, until the ceremony. Which will undoubtedly be moved up to her birthday, following her little tirade."

Hermione swallowed as his brow creased and grip tightened on his tumbler. She didn't need to be perspective to see the increasing agony and self-blame in his eyes.

"Her fate is sealed." Blaise stated quietly, his voice cracking. "The best that either of us can do for her, is offer our support when she needs it most. Emotional support is what Octavia will need from us, and you will give it; do you understand?"

"This has nothing to do with me," Hermione scowled. "I don't need you to control what I do with my friend, and I plan on doing a lot more than offering her _emotional support_."

"What is your plan, Granger?" Blaise snarled, his threatening tone sending shivers down her spine. "Feed her more tales and fantasies of freedom? Tell her of your world so that she craves the impossible? So that she ultimately creates her own downfall? This! This what just occurred- it is _your_ fault."

"It's my fault?" Hermione laughed emptily. "It is no fault of mine or Octavia's. The blame rests with your ridiculous customs and expectations. The sexism and chauvinism of your society is to blame. Octavia is materialistic and spoilt, but not a girl to be oppressed. The only one to blame is yourself- for you are one of the culprits of your despicable society."

"You speak of things you do not know of or understand," Blaise seethed, his jaw clenched and eyes alight with fury. "You cannot read of our society in the books you so desperately cling to. No matter how hard you try; no matter how many tomes and books you read; you will never learn of us. You will always be an outsider, and that has never been clearer than in this moment. You may look the part, Granger, but you will never be one of us."

"Because of my blood? Or, because I have an opinion?" Hermione snarled. "I seemed to recall that you were rather fond of my opinions, Blaise. Or are you going to insist that it was all a charade again?"

"You are a silly-" Blaise began, but was interrupted.

" _You_ ," Hermione whispered savagely, jabbing her finger against his hard chest. " _You_ don't even agree with the rules of your precious society. You send me books for Christmas; instruments of knowledge. You gave yourself away, Blaise."

Blaise's upper lip twitched, but he said nothing as he glowered down at the stunning mudblood. He was captivated by her beauty and passion. As he always was.

"On my birthday, you gave me this necklace," Hermione stated firmly, tapping her finger against the expensive jewellery around her neck. "You give me Christmas gifts and essentially forced me to attend the Halloween Ball with you. You threw yourself at me after the Slug Club dinner, and still, you try and hide it. You try and deny it."

"Suppose you are correct," Blaise sneered. "Let us pretend for a moment that your assumptions are accurate. What of it? I am an engaged man, and you are a mud– a muggle-born. What would you like to happen in your little fantasy world of freedom and love? Us two, flying off into the sunset together? Your dreams are as ridiculous as your opinions."

Hermione didn't feel the sharpness of his cruel words. How could she? When all she saw was the longing in his eyes for his words to come to fruition. He wanted that. His pained eyes proved it.

"You follow the rules of your oppressive society, when you don't even agree with them." Hermione hissed cruelly, shaking her head as she mocked him. "You love a muggle-born, who your society deems inferior. You love a woman with intellect and opinions, yet your society squashes that out of your women. You want me; not the women your society creates. And I'm the fool?"

Hermione didn't bother keeping the look of disdain from her features as she stared harshly into his conflicted eyes before turning and strolling away.

Blaise watched her go, his soul destroyed within him. The muggle-born taking another piece of his heart as she left.

The heart that belonged to her.

The muggle-born had created chaos within him. Conflictions and confusions. Not just with her and their relationship, but for his sister. Could he really just allow it to happen around him, whilst he did nothing? Could he let Octavia fall victim to the cruelty of their society?

He didn't know.

* * *

Voices roared and boomed around Leonardo's study, the men pacing up and down the room as Octavia stood in the centre of the space. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and adrenaline as Narcissa and Mediana stood by the door, eyeing her with pity and disapproval. Draco stood by the desk, his back to Octavia as he remained silent, the ager radiating from his tense muscular body.

She barely noticed. Her attention was on her furious father, and equally as enraged Lucius Malfoy.

"– I raised you better than that –"

"– a disgraceful display that will reflect on the Malfoy family –"

"– fortunate that not many saw –"

"– the rumours will circulate for years! –"

Her glassy eyes remained fixed on the floor as she listened to their aggressive admonishments, her blotchy cheeks damp with the tears she cried. Her course breaths hitched, her bosom raising and shaking as she attempted to resist the sobs from taking over her again.

"– you _dare_ speak to Lady Malfoy in such a manner –"

"– It's that mudblood she associates with –"

"– her fanciful ideologies will do you no justice! –"

"– when you are a Malfoy bride, the friendship will be ended, is that understood? –"

"I would like a word with my fiancé, alone." Draco spoke icily, his back to the others as he rested his hands on the hardwood desk.

Lucius and Leonardo ceased their tirades, turning their attention to Draco as though only just realising his presence in the room. Octavia stood lamely in the centre of the room, her hands wringing together as she stared at the floor, her cheeks blotchy and stained with incessant tears. Her breathing hitched with every shaky quiet sob, her body trembling.

Leonardo glowered at his daughter before inclining his head and storming out of the room, Lucius by his side. Mediana and Narcissa offered Octavia a pitying glance before following their husbands and closing the doors firmly behind them. Leaving Octavia to stare at the lush carpet in silence, only her quiet and ragged breaths audible in the study.

Draco pushed himself from the desk and turned to face his sobbing fiancé, his cold eyes glimmering with the rage that coursed through his veins. His icy gaze raked over her shaky body as he approached, before resting on the glistening cheeks of her pretty face, etched with misery. His slow and determined steps brought him closer to the quiet and nervous girl, her body tensing at his nearing proximity.

His long index finger rested beneath her damp chin and tilted her head upwards, forcing their faces to align. But the cowardly squib dared not meet his furious gaze, and stared at the bridge of his nose instead. Her parted lips emitted shaky breaths and sharp inhales, the aftereffects of her prior sobbing fit still consuming her.

The pad of his thumb pressed gently against her soaked lips, pushing the plump skin against her teeth as she remained silent. Her face remained aligned with his as he removed his fingers from her face, his jaw clenched tightly as his molten gaze bore into her averted eyes.

One second she was standing in front of Draco, and the next, the back of his hand connected harshly with her cheek, sending her reeling to the carpet. She landed on the lush carpet with a thud, her lips parted as she remained motionless at his feet.

It happened so quickly that Octavia had no other response but to be frozen in shock. She didn't scream or cry or sob or whimper. She just looked at the wall with eyes wide with horror, her body tense and cheek aching with pain.

The backhanding had not caused her skin to break, but she was certain that it would bruise quickly. Her cheekbone stung in sharp pains of agony, her heart shredding to pieces within her trembling body.

Draco stared down at the shaking figure at his feet, his cold eyes fixed on the side of her face that was curtained with loose ringlets. The spectacular shoes he had given her for Christmas were visible at the hem of her splendid ball-gown, one heel laying an inch from her bare foot.

Slowly, Draco dropped to one knee and retrieved the shoe from the ground, his eyes never leaving the shielded side of her face. He clasped his hand around her ankle and slipped on the bedazzled shoe before slowly rising and straightening himself.

After giving her shaky form a once over with his cold eyes, Draco raised his chin and exited the study, slamming the door behind him.

The very moment that door shut, and Octavia was left alone in the room, a horrid sound escaped the wizard-born. A sound that was a mixture between a sob and a scream.

A sound that spoke of many things. Her defeat; her anguish; her heartache; her misery.

But it spoke of one significant thing. One thing that would change her life forever.

It spoke of her plan, and the pain it brought her.

* * *

Her heart felt heavy. There was no other way to describe it. It was heavy, and weighed down inside of her chest. It felt as though it had dropped all the way down to her stomach, where it rested indefinitely. It was not a pleasant sensation. It was awful. The heart that had relocated to a place where it did not belong clenched and ached wretchedly within her slumped body.

Hazel eyes, filled with anguish, stared at the reflection in the grand mirror of the bathroom, looking into themselves. Seeing nothing but destruction and emptiness. That's what she would see, for that is how she felt. Destroyed and empty.

A shining purple bruise decorated her swollen cheekbone, her pained hazel eyes dragging along her face to assess the damage done two days ago. The evidence remained; physically and emotionally.

Of course, Octavia had pretended that no such assault had occurred; she had covered the bruise with magical cosmetics, and ordered Pinky to conceal it daily.

That should not suggest, however, that her parents did not suspect what had occurred in the study once they had departed. Yet they had left her alone with her furious fiancé, knowing what he could potentially do in retaliation. That's what hurt most of all. Not the bruise, nor the fear and agony that Draco had consumed her with. The most brutal agony she felt was due to the fact that her father had allowed it to happen.

Of course, she was Draco's now. She was his fiancé, and therefore, belonged to him. Her act of violence and rebellion in the ballroom had consequences. They all knew it. The Malfoys knew it, as did her parents. But she also belonged to her father, for she was still unwed. He had the power to intervene and prevent Draco's assault. But he didn't.

Yet, she received comfort and assistance from someone she had least expected. Her brother.

Blaise came to her. Not the other way around. _He_ came to _her_. It was as though he had known her back-up plan all along. But he couldn't have. She hadn't told a soul.

Reluctant to put her plan in action, Octavia had pleaded with her father one last time, the night after the Banquet. The results were as expected, but not as she had hoped. Her father declared that she would be disinherited if she were to reject the marriage. But they both knew that she couldn't reject the marriage. If the day came and Octavia resisted, she would be placed under the impreius curse yet again. She had no choice.

Or so it would seem.

Grabbing her bags of cosmetics, Octavia turned and walked out of the room slowly. The heartache and despair was evident in the way she moved. Slowly. With purpose, but hesitant and unwilling. Broken.

Stepping into her grand bedroom, Octavia stopped and allowed her pained and vacant eyes to scan the lush furnishings. Her gaze lingered over the collage of moving photographs on the wall by her desk, her eyes filling with tears as they rested on her most cherished picture. The one of Draco, Blaise and herself when they were children, laughing and playing merrily on the beaches of Hawaii. The three children were without a worry; no pain or destruction in their lives. They were not the same people that they all were today.

Not in the slightest.

Sighing heavily, Octavia approached the luggage on the floor by her bed and dumped her cosmetics into the opened suitcase. A muggle suitcase. Courtesy of Blaise, no less. Without him, she was certain that her plan would have been unsuccessful. But now, she had a fighting chance.

Eyeing the photograph on the wall one last time, Octavia allowed a single tear to fall down her bruised cheek, the irony lost on her. But the pain wasn't. So much pain.

Dropping to her knees, Octavia flattened her belongings that were stuffed into the luggage, her gaze lingering over the expensive crystal and diamond shoes that Draco had purchased for her. The shoes that would keep her afloat for years to come. From the man who craved her as his wife, but unknowingly assisted in her escape by gifting her those very shoes.

It should never have come to this.

* * *

The darkness of the night sky crept into the room, Octavia carrying a candle to provide some vision in her black surroundings. She had waited for this moment, hoping that the girl would come with her. It wouldn't be fair if Octavia did not present Pansy with the opportunity. And, truth be told, Octavia was afraid to do it alone.

So she patiently waited over the course of two days for her brother to invite the Parkinsons to the Zabini Manor for dinner. It delighted father to see that his son was taking such an interest in strengthening his relationship with his fiancé.

A sham, of course.

"Hey," Octavia whispered, nudging the peacefully sleeping girl awake. "Pansy, wake up."

The brunette beauty stirred in the guest bed of the Zabini Manor, her brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"O?" Pansy frowned, her eyes straining to focus on the girl at her bedside through the darkness of the bedroom. "What's going on?"

"I'm leaving," Octavia whispered, Pansy slowly sitting up in the bed as the slumber left her body entirely.

"Leaving?"

"I'm running away." Octavia hushed. "Now."

"What?" Pansy gasped, her body tensing and eyes widening.

"Come with me," Octavia pleaded quietly.

Pansy blinked at Octavia, certain that she was still dreaming. No one ever ran away. Not ever.

"You're mad," Pansy whispered, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Please come with me," Octavia begged, ignoring the comment.

"Come with you?" Pansy scoffed. "Are you serious, O? You'll be caught before you make out the front door!"

"Shhh!" Octavia hushed.

Whilst the two girls were in the privacy of the guest bedroom on the fourth floor of Zabini Manor, Octavia feared being caught more than anything. Raised voices were a sure-fire way to ensure that you were, in fact, caught.

"I have a plan," Octavia whispered. "We won't get caught if you keep your voice down. I have everything we need. Everything. Please, Pansy. Come with me."

"And do what?" Pansy raised her brows. "Be on the run for the rest of our lives?"

"Be happy," Octavia shrugged. "We'll live with the muggles, Pansy. We won't be found if you leave your wand behind. We can be free, like them."

"We'd have to get jobs, O." Pansy uttered, the thought causing the brunette witch to shudder. "I can't work, Octavia. I'd surely break my nails. My manicures are far too costly for that."

"I have enough money for us to live without working," Octavia countered, her hushed tone laced with hope and impatience. "I've packed jewellery and heirlooms. We'll sell them, and I have some muggle money already. I have muggle clothes and ID's for the both of us; everything we need. You can come with me and we can live with them. We won't be forced into marriage, and we can do whatever and go wherever we want. But we have to go now, Pansy. I'm leaving _now_."

Pansy gaped at the desperate wizard-born, her eyes darting between the window that poured the darkness outside into the bedroom and Octavia.

Slowly, she nodded, not believing that she was actually agreeing to this madness. But if they were successful, they would be free. What was better than freedom?

Nothing.

* * *

Octavia cried silently as her face nuzzled into the solid chest of her brother, his arms wrapped tightly around her and holding her against him firmly. His face rested atop her curls, his teary eyes shut tightly as she snivelled against him.

The door to the ensuite opened, Pansy entering the room now dressed in muggle attire from Octavia's secret collection. Blaise didn't look at his fleeing fiancé as he untangled himself from his sister. Pinky stood by the prepared luggage, her wide eyes filled with tears that rolled down her grey face onto the plush rug. But Blaise only looked at his twin, cupping her blotchy tear-stained face in his hands as his reddened eyes gazed into hers.

"Thank you," Octavia whispered.

"Stay hidden," Blaise ordered, his voice cracking. "We'll be looking for you both. We'll never stop searching. Don't get yourself caught, O."

"I promise," Octavia whimpered, her face scrunching up as tears streamed out of her anguished hazel eyes. "I'll miss you."

"I love you, O." Blaise hushed, pulling her against him once more. "I'll miss you every day."

Pansy watched the display, her brows raised at the emotional vulnerability of the ever-stoic and composed Zabini heir. She had never seen such a side to him, and doubted – before that moment – that it had even existed.

Octavia sniffed indelicately, rubbing at her runny nose as Blaise pulled away from her and kissed her forehead gently.

"Don't write," Blaise laughed shakily, his blood-shot eyes void of humour. "Always be safe."

Octavia nodded and she gave her twin a watery smile. Blaise smiled weakly in response before he nodded and departed the bedroom, not sparing a single glance at his fiancé. The wizard-born released a shaky breath as she pulled out an envelope from the pocket of her black skinny-jeans and placed it on her bed. A farewell letter to her parents. A farewell that she wished she could have done in person, yet doubted that they deserved it.

Running her hands over her weary and marked face, Octavia approached the weeping house-elf, extending her hand to the creature as Pansy did the same. Pansy raised her wand and issued her last ever spell – _Silencio_ – before tossing her wand onto the floor and gazing at it with desire. The pureblood girls held onto Pinky's bony hands tightly, their free hands gripping onto the two large suitcases.

The crack of the apparation vibrated and resounded through the now-vacant and extravagant bedroom, but the noise did not sound out passed the doors. For Pansy's final spell prevented it.

They left in the dead of night, not a single occupant of the Manor aware of their escape.

Except Blaise, of course.

* * *

The parlour room was thick with heavy silence, pain and despair encompassing the occupants. All that could be heard in the silence was the occasional clinking of ice within a tumbler as someone sipped their fire-whiskey, and the crackling and creasing of the parchment that was passed around the men.

Draco did not know how many times he had read the letter of goodbye, written in the atrocious hand of his beloved. His beloved who had escaped in the middle of the night.

Silver eyes were smeared with red and puffiness as they scanned the letter for the countless time. His long fingers gripped onto the expensive piece of parchment, his senses picking up on the trace of her strawberry aroma, as if it was absorbed into the parchment itself. Perhaps it was. Draco wasn't certain. He was only certain of one thing.

The pain.

His heart felt hollow and shattered. It was broken, he knew that. The squib had broken his heart and soul. His glassy eyes threatening to spill tears that gathered there, much like Blaise who sat beside him on the leather sofa.

Leonardo sat on the armchair facing the two men, Lucius on the chair beside him. Alexander Parkinson stood by the bar, his back to the others as he poured himself another drink. They were all quiet. They were all sad. And all wept, or were on the verge, except Lucius.

Blaise remained in a deafening silence as he stared at his tumbler in despair. He kept the guilty glint from his eyes, allowing only his misery to swarm in the watery dark orbs. He knew, however, that he had done the right thing. He had helped his sister when she needed it most, and betrayed everything he valued. He betrayed the politics of his society, his expectations, his duties, his closest ally and his father. Everything.

But it was worth it, wasn't it? Without his assistance, Octavia would have failed in escaping. He had known for certain that she was planning to flee, after discovering the muggle attire and stash of galleons in her second closet. He had looked for them, yes, but still; his heart ached and clenched when he had found what he was searching for. How could he not help her? She was so desperate to leave. So desperate to escape.

Blaise had a choice, but he knew that really, he didn't. He had no choice. So he helped.

Blaise had ordered his house-elf to convert the galleons into muggle currency, whilst he spent the entire morning acquiring documents and muggle identifications for his sister and bride-to-never-be. It was not difficult to bribe members of the Ministry into forging the required documents for him, nor was it difficult to ensure their discreetness regarding the transactions. They wouldn't dare betray Blaise, lest their families succumb to poverty, and their homes be burnt to ashes.

Alas, Blaise knew that it was possible that the girls would be found and brought home. He hoped it would never occur, but the possibility remained. For not a single man in this room would ever cease in their searches for the two girls. A fact that Draco vocalised with a broken and hoarse voice. A voice that spoke volumes of the agony he was enduring.

The agony he deserved.

"I will find her."

* * *

The building was far too crowded for Octavia's liking, but she couldn't deny that there was excitement in the atmosphere. She and Pansy stood by the wide and long windows that lined the wall of the departure lounge, neither girl entirely sure of how to react to the machinery outside. Extremely large machines sped off in various lanes before taking off into the sky and soaring into the clouds.

Given that Octavia was horrendously afraid of heights, she was hardly at ease regarding the knowledge that she was soon to be on one of those terrifying machines. 'Aeroplanes', she believed they were called. It was an odd way to travel, but a common method for the muggles surrounding the two pureblood girls. The two pureblood girls who were now in disguise as muggles.

Octavia wore skinny-black jeans and knitted crop top, Pansy almost identical in terms of attire. Each girl sported a high pony-tail and flat converse low tops, their cream and black suitcases no longer with them. Octavia had been reluctant to hand over her suitcase to the lady at the counter, but saw that the other muggles were doing so without question. She just hoped that they would return it when they arrived at their destination. For the suitcase held very expensive pieces of jewellery and the very shoes that Draco had given her for Christmas. The shoes and jewellery that the girls would sell and use the funds to support themselves throughout the remainder of their days.

Their days of freedom.

A voice came from nowhere – as it did frequently at the airport – announcing the 'final boarding call' for their flight.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Pansy asked quietly, the girls holding hands as they stared out of the window. "Once we get on that thing, there is no going back."

Octavia exhaled shakily, her glassy eyes remaining fixed on the white machine outside. The machine they would soon board. The machine that would take them away and bring them to freedom.

"Good." Octavia whispered. "I don't want to go back."

Pansy glanced at the frightened girl, finding that she too felt crippled with anxieties and fears. But she agreed with her friend. Entirely. And she vocalised her agreement; the last words she spoke before they boarded the aeroplane.

"We're never going back."

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

 **SEQUEL: THE WIZARD-BORN MUGGLE!**


End file.
